


Peachfire Whiskey

by KareliaSweet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Bottom Hannibal, Caretaker Will, Dildos, Happy Ending, JustFuckMeUp, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No mpreg, Omega Hannibal, Omega Verse, Professor Will, Rimming, Scent Kink, Sexual Coercion, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Top Will, Topping from the Bottom, young!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KareliaSweet/pseuds/KareliaSweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will knows he'll remember this scent until the day he dies. Hannibal smells like firewood, and malt whiskey, and roasted peaches drizzled in honey. He smells like nothing Will has ever scented before, and it is so divine it dizzies him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The Adventures of Professor Will Graham and His Terribly Naughty Omega Student, Hannibal Fucking Lecter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> \- This is a slightly different sort of omegaverse (maybe?). I'm kind of grabbagging at the biological aspects of it to suit the needs of the story (and since it's all made-up science anyway, I hope you don't mind too much).  
> \- Yes, this is omega!Hannibal, but he's still Hannibal. Which means he's still a manipulative little shit.  
> \- No dubcon, no mpreg, but lots of filthy smut.

"Professor Graham?"

 

Will looks up at the young man in his office doorway. His chestnut hair hangs loose over his forehead, freed from the usual meticulously slicked-back confines he keeps it in. His jacket hangs over his arm, sleeves rolled up untidily, and a fine bead of sweat trickles from his forehead to the bridge of his nose.

 

"Hannibal. You're early."

 

Will stands to greet him and Hannibal squirms delicately, cheeks newly flushed.

 

"Yes, I'm afraid I need to cancel our appointment today. A... medical issue has arisen."

 

"Oh, is everything al--"

 

The scent hits his nose before he can finish the question.

 

Everyone's heat smells slightly different, their pheromones biologically designed to encourage the optimal alpha-omega match. Will has scented decent enough heats in his time, in the handful of occasions he's allowed himself to get close enough for such a thing. They're often earthy, a little sweet, nothing spectacular. Nothing to remember.

 

But Hannibal. Will knows he'll remember this scent until the day he dies. Hannibal smells like firewood, and malt whiskey, and roasted peaches drizzled in honey. He smells like nothing Will has ever scented before, and it is so divine it dizzies him. Will wobbles on his feet before planting his hands firmly on the desk to steady himself.

 

"I see," he says as curtly as he can. "You're excused." His nostrils flare, he can feel warmth spreading thick fingers up the back of his neck.

 

"Thank you," Hannibal replies. He doesn't move. He seems to be waiting for something.

 

Will is seized with the vision of grabbing Hannibal by the collar, pushing him face down to the desk and just... plunging into him. It wouldn't take much. A tug and an unbuckling and a careless shove, opening up that glorious scent for him to feast upon. Oh God, how he’d feast.

 

He makes the mistake of looking up at Hannibal then, sees how dilated his pupils are. A pink tongue dabs out of his student's slightly parted mouth, slicks its way across his plush bottom lip.

 

Will growls. It's a quiet rumble, barely felt in his chest, but it's loud enough that it gives Hannibal a start. His eyes widen and he steps backward almost involuntarily.

 

"You should go," Will says, his voice turned to gravel on a dirt road. He seats himself in his chair before the line of his erection becomes apparent and busies himself with the paperwork splayed out before him.

 

Hannibal doesn't reply, just nods once and makes a quick exit, the burnt-sweet scent trailing behind him as he goes. When he's clear of the door, Will takes a deep inhale and moans, his eyes drifting close. One hand reaches down to palm at the substantial line of his cock, before he realizes his door is open and he can still hear Hannibal's footsteps clicking down the hall.

 

He removes his hand, smacks it forcefully onto the desk. His groin still throbs stubbornly. Everything smells like Hannibal.

 

Will exhales in a great shudder and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. He leans back into his chair, his spine arching in a curve of frustration as his head lolls almost upside-down.

 

"Shit."

 

-x-

 

Hannibal returns to Abnormal Psychology the following week, impeccable and unruffled. He gives a genteel nod to Will when he enters and takes his customary front row seat in the classroom, and sits through class without incident. His almost bewitching calm serves to only remind Will of his appearance a week ago, decidedly ruffled and smelling like heaven.

 

He squares the thought away, tucks it in a box at the back of his brain, and continues the lesson. Hannibal offers his near-genius insights as always, contributing to the discussion that – 90% of the time – is solely between himself and Will. As if it isn’t bad enough that Hannibal is distractingly handsome, Will observes bitterly, he also happens to be in possession of a fierce and keen mind, that fucker.

 

That fucker arrives at their appointment later that afternoon with not a hair out of place. Will’s nerves, on the other hand, are decidedly scattered.

 

"So, are you - is everything - okay?" Will asks as Hannibal sits.

 

"Yes.” Hannibal nods. “Well, mostly.” He looks over his shoulder to the closed door behind them, than back across the desk. “May I trust your confidence, Professor?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

"Until very recently, the heat suppressants I've been taking were not exactly legal. The only brand I’ve found 100% effective on my biology was smuggled from Eastern Europe."

 

"I see."

 

"Unfortunately, new laws and stricter FDA restrictions have forced me to seek an alternative. I was given a prescription for an approved brand, but I'm currently in transition whilst I wait for my body to adjust. My heats will be slightly erratic for the next few months. It's nothing I can't control."

 

Will leans earnestly across the table. "I’m sorry. If there's anything I can do to help--"

 

The 'anything' that Will can do hangs unvoiced between them, the air wavering. 

 

Hannibal artfully sidesteps it, crossing his legs at the knee.

 

"Thank you, Professor."

 

The air dissipates in fragments. Will leans back and lets out the breath he had unintentionally held in his throat.

 

"I have to confess," he says with forced casualness, "I'd always assumed you were an alpha."

 

"Entirely by my design," Hannibal admits. "Much easier that way. I hope you take no offense when I say I assumed you were an omega."

 

"None taken. Most people do, but there are suppressants for alphas too. The efficacy isn't half as good, but it helps to tamp down some of the unwanted hormonal spikes."

 

"Still, alpha pheromones are notoriously difficult to mask. You hid them well with that terrible cologne."

 

Will laughs at the boldness of Hannibal's needling. "You smelled me?"

 

Hannibal shrugs lightly. "Difficult to avoid." Inhaling through his nose, Hannibal tilts his chin. "But you're not on the suppressants now."

 

"Ah - no," Will says. "You - you can smell that too?"

 

Hannibal just inclines his head in barely a nod.

 

Flushed with nerves, Will scrapes a hand over his four-day scruff and scoots back in his chair.

 

"The side effects began to become more of a hindrance than the benefits were so," he sweeps his hand across empty air, "Yeah, I stopped taking them."

 

He doesn't mention how recently he stopped taking them, because it's coincidence, purely coincidence that it was a scant fortnight before Hannibal's budding heat came into effect.

 

Hannibal nods sagely. "Alpha suppressants can often cause hallucinations when taken for too long of a duration."

 

Will squints at him. "I never said I was having hallucinations."

 

"I extrapolated." Hannibal's face is unreadable, but then his mouth quirks in the tiniest of smiles.

 

"There is a chemical odor left in the sweat produced by fear. Like the tang of metal. It's quite noticeable, especially in juxtaposition to your usual scent."

 

Will tries to let his brain steamroll over the words  _your usual scent_  and offers a half-hearted grin.

 

"My terrible cologne?"

 

Hannibal purses his mouth. "No," he says quietly, "underneath that."

 

The silence between them is thick, whiskey-heavy. Will can smell the cracking snap of firewood despite the chill of his office. Hannibal clears his throat and folds his hands neatly in his lap.

 

"So, Professor Graham," he says, incredibly formal, "considering my recent medical setbacks, I was wondering if we might come to an arrangement."

 

Will shoots up bolt-straight in his chair. He can't be asking what he thinks he's asking.

 

"Hannibal," he says with strained earnestness, "I'm your  _teacher_."

 

Hannibal's forehead knits in a small frown.

 

"What -  _oh_  -" He raises his hands in supplication. "No, Professor, no, I meant --" He takes a deep breath and lowers his hands.

 

"Adjusting to these new suppressants means that I cannot control my heat fluxes as much as I wish - they sneak up on me unnoticed. I was hoping perhaps we could agree upon a discreet signal that might excuse me from class if such a situation were to arise."

 

Will exhales in what he convinces himself is relief. "Oh."

 

"In this way," Hannibal continues, "I might save myself from possible embarrassment. You could send me any work missed for the remainder of the class. You know I am a good student; my grades are exemplary, and my record stands for itself. But if this makes you uncomfortable in any way..."

 

"No, it doesn't at all." Will smiles gently, cautiously. "I'm sorry I misinterpreted."

 

"I would never dare to ask that of you." Hannibal says, then casts his eyes downward. "It wouldn't be appropriate."

 

Will steadfastly ignores Hannibal's subtly implicated desire in his quietly uttered words. Easy enough to blame on the last traces of his heat working their way out of his system.

 

"You're right," Will says, and notes that Hannibal looks almost disappointed. "You are an excellent student." The muscles of Hannibal's face settle instantly as he registers Will's deft circumvention. "I have no problem with your proposed arrangement. I can’t imagine it’s much fun having to endure this."

 

Hannibal quirks his mouth ruefully.

 

"There are worse ailments to be saddled with." His eyes lock with Will's and suddenly the smell of peaches wafts through the air. It's imagined, Will knows it, a chemical reproduction somewhere in his cerebral cortex to jog his memory of how very potential this potential mate is, but he grits his teeth and backhands his own betraying hormones.

 

"What do you suggest as a discreet gesture?" Will asks, locking his fingers in a tight fist over the table.

 

"Something that would go unnoticed, but that I would not normally do. Easily read but also unobtrusive. Something like this, perhaps?"

 

It's a simple gesture, and in its simplicity it unravels Will completely. Hannibal has cocked his head just slightly and pressed the pad of one index finger to the bottom ridge of his lower lip. A careless affectation, as if he sits lazy in thought. Then his mouth parts and his eyes slide to Will's, honeyed gaze oozing warmth into his bones.

 

Will's own mouth parts in an unconscious mirroring, but Hannibal has already collected and tidied himself, hands in his lap, guileless and exemplary as always.

 

"Would that suffice?" he asks smoothly.

 

A nod is all Will can manage, a husky cough stuttering out of him before words can form.

  
"Yeah - yes," he says, "I'll keep an eye out."

 

"Hopefully I won't have to use it too often," Hannibal tells him, then thanks him with a quick shake of his hand and is gone.

 

-x-

 

The next few weeks pass without disruption. Hannibal continues to display his formidable intellect both in class and in their private conference, and Will forces himself to forget that his most favoured student is not just an omega, but an omega clearly uniquely calibrated for him. He forgets it almost completely until, in the middle of a run-of-the-mill lecture on identifying psychopathic behavior, Hannibal looks at Will and touches a finger to his lip.

 

Will’s eyebrows pop up to his hairline and he forgets for a moment how to speak. Sweat forms instantly at the back of his neck and Hannibal parts his lips. If he looks closely, and Will can’t help but look closely, he can see the flush of colour as it paints Hannibal’s cheeks. Will gives him a quick, cursory nod, and Hannibal quietly collects his belongings and leaves the room.

 

The rest of the class sits in awkward silence as Will breathes in and out, blinking rapidly. Finally, one of the more brash students calls out to him.

 

“Earth to Professor Graham!”

 

Will jerks sharply and clears his throat.

 

“Yes. Thank you, Mason. Where were we?”

 

He coasts through the rest of the lecture by rote, releasing the class and praying none of them have any questions or desire to linger. Thankfully they don’t, and with lightning speed Will bolts to his office, locking the door behind him. With a heavy exhale, he unbuttons his trousers and fists his rapidly thickening cock. He begins to jerk himself tightly, the vision of Hannibal’s pink cheeks floating behind his eyes. When he pictures Hannibal’s mouth, the fingertip pressed to it just so, Will comes all over his fingers, spattering his desk and one pantleg. His knot forms bulbous and useless in his fist, and he looks down at it in dismay.

 

“Fuck you,” he mutters at his dick, and reaches for some Kleenex.

 

-x-

 

The next week, Hannibal has returned to normal again, breezing through class with charm and finding himself back in Will’s office for their appointment.

 

"How are you faring, Hannibal?"

 

"I've had better days, but it's mostly under control." He laughs a little ruefully. "Though I sometimes wonder if it might just be easier to find an alpha to guide me through the worst of it."

 

"That's certainly a possibility. I'm sure you'd find plenty alphas more than willing." The blush is up to his neck before he can stop it and Will averts his eyes. Hannibal just smirks.

 

"I have incredibly high standards."

  
Will grins in reply. "That doesn't surprise me."

 

“And most alphas lose interest once they learn of my condition.”

 

Will frowns. “Your… condition?”

 

“I’m sterile.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“By choice.”

 

Knowing Hannibal as he does, Will doesn’t find the news especially surprising. It’s an uncommon procedure, but not unheard of, especially for male omegas, and more especially for alpha-presenting ones like Hannibal. For all the shock it’s supposed to incur, it certainly doesn’t bother Will. Having never experienced the alpha-typical urge for children of his own, it only further cements how stupidly fucking perfect their match would be.

 

“Does that bother you, Professor?”

 

Will looks up, aware he’s been caught in a tangle of thought. “Me – I – no, it doesn’t, but my opinion isn’t--”

 

Hannibal peers at him from across the desk, his eagle-eyed gaze cutting through Will’s bluster.

 

"When you assumed I had propositioned you, was your sole objection the fact that you are my professor?"

 

"Isn't that enough?"

 

"Is that a yes?"

 

Will can see where this prodding seems to be leading, and he raises his line of defense. "I'm a lot older than you."

 

Hannibal scoffs. "Hardly. Barely a decade."

 

"A decade is more than enough. Why are we having this conversation?"

 

"Curious about your particular brand of ethics, Professor."

 

“My ethics,” Will says, injecting some sternness into his tone, “my ethics are that you are my student, regardless of how many – or few – years there are between us, regardless of attraction, or compatibility, or--”. He cuts the thought off as Hannibal raises his eyebrows. “Student-teacher relationships are decidedly _un_ ethical in my book.”

 

Hannibal just looks at him. “Attraction?”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Would you care to know what my ethics are?”

 

Will shakes his head. “I think it’s best we table this conversation for another time, Hannibal. Or better yet, not pick it back up at all.”

 

Hannibal nods serenely. “If you think it best, Professor.” He draws the last word lushly over his tongue, with decided intention. Then he gathers his things and stands, giving Will one last long look.

 

“Ethics become aesthetics,” he says, then leaves Will’s office, closing the door behind him.

 

Will stares after him, his brain still swirling around the sinful way Hannibal said _Professor._

 

-x-

 

Hannibal doesn't show up to his next class. No phone call, e-mail, or any notification whatsoever, which is utterly unlike him and it sets Will's nerves on edge. He rattles through Abnormal Psych in distraction, eyes half on the clock the entire time. He's already decided what to do before the class is over, and he dismisses everyone five minutes early.

 

The moment the last student is out the door, Will pulls Hannibal's address from his file and gets in his car.

 

He's at Hannibal’s house within twenty minutes, knowing full well it would have taken at least thirty for a responsible driver. He parks on the curb and walks quickly to the door, eyes out for any potential spying neighbours. Will knocks hesitantly but there is no answer. He tries the handle and it swings open.

 

Foolish of Hannibal, to leave his door unlocked. Unsafe. But Will knows exactly what it means. The message is entirely clear when he crosses the threshold and breathes in a house suffused with the scent of Hannibal's heat.

 

He should turn around, now. Taking another step would be dangerous, unwise. It would all but guarantee an outcome he has been trying valiantly to avoid.

 

Will steps into the hallway.

 

"Hannibal?"

 

From somewhere upstairs, a hoarse voice cries out.

 

"Help me."

 

Will bolts up the stairs two at a time. It's clearly worse than he thought. Hannibal could have injured himself, he could be having a severe reaction to his suppressants, or he could -

 

He could, as Will realizes when he crosses the open doorway, be squirming under a thin sheet and clearly (by both motion and sound) fingering himself to fruitless completion.

 

Hannibal is panting harshly, flushed with sweat, hair hanging limp in his face. One lip is bitten fiercely between his teeth as he works himself over, hips bucking.

 

Will licks his lips and sniffs loudly. "Hannibal." The word is rasped, hardly even a name, just a guttural jumble of syllables. Hannibal looks up. His eyes are glazed but when he sees Will they focus, suddenly laser-sharp.

 

"Professor," he mumbles thickly, " _please_."

 

Will swallows around the desire swelling up through his throat. The corded muscles of his neck jut taut. Already, he is painfully hard.

 

"I can't," he grits out.

 

Beneath the sheet, he can see the stiff line of Hannibal’s erection, the damp spots a little lower where the wetness of his slick has seeped through. He counts his blessings that he can't see past the sheet, because he's pretty sure the sight of Hannibal's completely naked, fully in-heat body would undo him completely.

 

As if sieving the thought from Will's mind, Hannibal throws back the covering. The moan that scrapes low from Will sounds like it’s been aged in a barrel. Hannibal is breathtaking. Lithe, long limbs like a dancer's, a broad chest with a perfect dusting of hair, strong muscles that flex as he moves, and a gorgeous cock that curves elegant and dripping towards his chest. Between his legs, he has three fingers to the knuckle plunged deep into his sopping hole. God, he's beautiful.

 

"Please," Hannibal says once more, and spreads his legs beguilingly. He looks up at Will from under dark lashes and touches the pad of his index finger to his mouth. The same finger that was just inside him.

 

Will's face twitches in a snarl and he reaches for his belt buckle.

 

"Turn over."

 

Hannibal acquiesces instantly, presenting himself on elbows and knees. He looks back over the smooth slope of his shoulder and turns his mouth in a smile.

 

" _Thank you_."

 

Will busies himself with freeing his cock from his trousers and nothing more, baring the minimum amount of skin required.

 

"Just this once," he says, more to himself than to Hannibal. "I'll help you through this once but I - I can't do this again."

 

"I understand." Hannibal's reply is rushed and he actually wiggles his behind. It glistens beautifully, thighs smeared with peachfire scent.

 

Will is practically salivating. He shifts one knee up onto the bedspread and reaches with hesitant fingers to touch Hannibal's hip.

 

"Is this okay?

 

Hannibal nods vigorously and tilts toward the touch. " _Anything_ is okay."

 

Will tamps down another plaintive groan. "That's the heat talking, and you know it." He hoists his other leg up until he is kneeling behind Hannibal. "I'm trying to be respectful here."

 

Hannibal widens his stance and more slick drips out, hot and fragrant. Will wants nothing more than to bury his face in it.

 

"I don't want you to be respectful." Hannibal’s voice drops near an octave. "I want you to fuck me."

 

Will's hand spasms fiercely at his student’s hip, hard enough to bruise. He has no reply except to take his cock in hand and guide it towards Hannibal’s entrance, slick coating his fingers as he nudges Hannibal’s cheeks further apart. He slides in  _so easily_. A full-bodied shudder ripples through him, and he can no longer suppress the ecstatic moan that vibrates from his throat and breaks free.

 

"Fuck," Will hisses.  _Christ, you feel good_ , he wants to say, but he bites it down. Instead, he sucks a slick-covered finger into his mouth and his eyes roll into the back of his head. _Fucking delicious._ Hannibal trembles beneath him, making delicate mewling sounds. He says something that sounds like 'more'.

 

Will sinks a little deeper, chin dropping to his chest. Hannibal makes one, bright cry then almost collapses beneath him, going very still. Will tenses immediately.

 

"Hannibal, are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

 

"No," Hannibal says, almost a whisper. "I'm just rather  _ohh_ -overcome." He clenches around Will like a glove, velvet soft and perfect. "I’m… you’re…"

 

"I know," Will says in both answer and fear. He digs his hands into both of Hannibal's hipbones, the muscles of his back and thighs quaking in restraint. He shifts a bit, to ease the rigid tension, and it stirs something inside Hannibal that makes him writhe in pleasure.

 

"Fuck me, Professor," he begs, and all the restraint left in Will snaps like a winter branch. He surges within Hannibal, teeth bared and chest rumbling.

 

He does as his student requests, fucking into him with hard, bracing thrusts. Hannibal keens and moans and works himself back, the slick sounds of their coupling echoing wetly throughout the heated room. Everything smells like Hannibal, newly ripe and blooming. Will feels the sure squeeze of Hannibal's muscles, preparing to milk him for every drop. He can already feel his knot starting to form. It won't take long, that much he knows. Now that he's finally inside Hannibal he can admit how terribly, how desperately he's wanted this. How hard he has fought against this urge. How glad he is to have let go.

 

Somewhere inside he knows the gladness will die with his rapidly cresting orgasm, and with it will come the shame, but he can't seem to care. Not when Hannibal, beautiful Hannibal, lies half-wrecked beneath him, crying out his name and clenching hard on his dick.

 

"H-Hannibal, I'm going to--"

 

"Knot me first."

 

“But--”

 

“ _Do it_.”

 

Will doesn’t ask twice. A forceful shove sheaths him completely, his knot fully inflated as he loses himself with a cry and a thick burst of come. Quickly, he reaches beneath to aid Hannibal in his completion, but his hand is knocked away roughly as Hannibal flexes around him, inner walls gripping him tight as his dick spurts untouched onto the sheets below. Will curses loudly, collapsing forward onto Hannibal's back, uncaring of how the sweat smears into his shirtfront.

 

It's when he catches his breath, and one more loose pulse jerks out of him, that the panic starts to well.

 

"Shit," Will says halfway into Hannibal's neck. He sits up, but it's a farce of a movement considering how tightly locked they are together, and will be for a good further half hour at least. Hannibal, sensing his distress, reaches one lazy hand behind and pets at what parts he can reach. He turns his face, cheek smudging the pillow and a lazy, satisfied grin on his face.

 

"Thank you, Professor," he all-but-purrs.

 

Will cups his own face in his hands and drags his fingers down his cheeks. "What the fuck have I done."

 

Hannibal stretches his limbs as best he can, which causes an involuntary clench around Will's cock that makes him wince in oversensitivity.

 

"Nothing illegal,” Hannibal assures him, “and nothing immoral by my standards."

 

"Nothing - nothing immoral?! You're my fucking student!"

 

Hannibal rubs his palm placatingly over Will's hip.

 

"Calm down, Will.".

 

"Don't call me that."

 

"Professor, then?"

 

Will pinches his lips together. "Will is fine."

 

"I might suggest you lie down. There's nothing to be done until you deflate, and this is hardly a comfortable position for both of us to maintain much longer."

 

"Are you asking me to spoon you?"

 

Hannibal sighs. "Would it be so terrible?"

 

At that, Will finally registers the sting of his tone. He scoots down gently and lowers himself to his side, mindful of where he touches. He settles for resting a trembling hand on Hannibal's stomach.

 

"I'm sorry." he mumbles.

 

"Thank you." Hannibal turns half over his shoulder to catch his eye. "Really, thank you. This heat has had me half out of my mind."

 

Will lets his fingers splay, feeling the warm, damp skin underneath.

 

"I can't - you know I can't do this again." He nuzzles Hannibal's nape, allowing himself a moment of honesty. "But I really fucking want to."

 

Hannibal preens beside him, rubbing his cheek toward Will's. "You know I'll need it. This clarity is fleeting. I could take you again in an hour."

 

Will sags entirely forward. "Don't say that."

 

Hannibal draws Will's hand up to his chest, lacing their fingers together.

 

"You felt exquisite, Will."

 

Will moans quietly, and before he can stop himself he's burying a kiss in Hannibal's neck.

 

"Really don't say that."

 

"How did I feel?"

 

"God," Will's voice drops low and husky, "perfect. You were perfect, Hannibal. Better than I dreamed."

 

"You've dreamt of this?"

 

"Hannibal," Will warns. He can hear the broadening smile in Hannibal's voice.

 

"Often?"

 

"Don't be coy. You know I have."

 

"I do. But I'm pleased to hear you admit to it."

 

"That doesn't mean I'll do this again."

 

"And it doesn't mean you won't."

 

" _Hannibal_."

 

Hannibal rumbles a quiet laugh. "Fine. Would it be alright if we slept awhile? I feel exhaustion overtaking me." He yawns broadly and Will echoes one in return.

 

"Yeah," Will says, "sleep sounds good." He tightens his fingers around Hannibal's and presses one more kiss at the edge of Hannibal's chin. Worry bleeds from him as his eyes drift closed, and his thoughts stay only on the man beneath him as he wanders into sleep.

 

When Will wakes, the room is bright and cold. Curtains and windows have been opened, clearing most of the scent, leaving but a ghost of it behind. Hannibal is nowhere to be found. On the pillow beside Will is a note written in efficient cursive on an eggshell card.

 

_Professor Graham,_

 

_Thank you for coming to my aid. I thought it would be best to distance myself as I felt the next wave of my heat approach, to respect your wishes._

 

_There is coffee in the kitchen, as well as a pastry (personally baked), and some fruit. Please help yourself. There is a key on the counter with which you can lock the door. You may return it at your convenience._

 

_I look forward to seeing you in class next week._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Hannibal_


	2. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, I… I was wondering if it might be useful for you to have my phone number. In case of emergencies."
> 
> "What sort of emergencies?"
> 
> "You know what kind."

The knock at the door shakes Will from his stupor and he looks up expectantly. His smile is hard to hide when he sees Hannibal hovering outside his office.

 

“Come in.”

 

Hannibal walks in and seats himself, an oddly expectant look on his face.

 

“Uh… can I help you, Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal gives him a prodding look. “My key?”

 

“Your - oh!”

 

Will digs into his pocket and pulls it out, sliding the key gingerly across his desk.

 

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” he says.

 

Hannibal takes up the key with his fingers, examining it with a disaffected eye before slipping it into his waistcoat pocket.

 

“Thank you for returning it.” He smiles thinly but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

Will rubs a nervous hand at the back of his neck. "So, I… I was wondering if it might be useful for you to have my phone number. In case of emergencies."

 

"What sort of emergencies?"

 

"You know what kind."

 

Hannibal regards him impassively. "No."

 

Will blinks owlishly. "No?"

 

"No," Hannibal repeats, "I don't need your charity, thank you."

 

"It's not  _ charity _ ," Will replies, a little incredulous. "I'm offering--"

 

"I know what you're offering. You're offering me sexual gratification in the guise of medical aide."

 

"I -"

  
  
"What you're not offering is a legitimate sexual relationship."

 

Will blanches. "I can't offer that."

 

"You'd still be fucking me on at least a semi-regular basis,” Hannibal counters, “explain to me the difference."

 

"I'm just - I’m trying to help you."

  
  
"Charity," Hannibal stresses again, "I don't want that."

 

Will sighs heavily and sinks back into his chair. "I can't give you what you want."

 

"You're perfectly capable of it, Will. As I am perfectly capable of handling the situation on my own."

 

"That can't be enough for you."

 

Hannibal tuts softly with a click of his tongue. "You think highly of yourself."

 

"That's not what I meant."

 

"It isn't,” Hannibal replies, “but I'll admit that it's true. No-one has ever relieved a heat for me like that before. I was... ‘satisfied’ barely covers it. You awoke an ecstasy in me that I didn’t know I was capable of experiencing."

 

The room goes silent. Will looks up at Hannibal, sees the frightening honesty in his eyes. Hannibal takes a deep breath through his nose, shakes his head a little. "I'm not here to beg. I'm not that kind of omega, and you wouldn't be so drawn to me if I were. But an ‘In Case of Emergency’ fuck is not something I'm interested in. Not from you. If you decide you wish to pursue a sexual relationship with me, well. You know my level of interest."

 

Will's chest is tight. Everything feels a half-size too small. He could deny, lie to them both, insist he'll never cross that boundary, that their relationship needs to remain entirely professional. But Hannibal is staring at him with those whiskey-dark eyes of his and Will can smell him all over again.

 

"Okay," Will says quietly.

 

"Okay?" Hannibal raises one eyebrow just a fraction as Will nods.

 

"If I decide that. I'll let you know."

 

Hannibal smiles and Will feels himself diving headfirst. No, not diving. Falling.

 

"Good," Hannibal murmurs, "I look forward to it."

 

He stands to leave, and Will begins to sputter.

 

"I said  _ if _ , Hannibal."

 

Hannibal opens the door and looks over his shoulder. His smile is held entirely within his eyes.

 

"I know."

 

-x-

 

The very next class, Will is in the middle of a discussion about psychoactive substance use when Hannibal touches a finger to his lip. He tries not to stumble over his words and nods quickly, refusing to look for the beautiful touch of blush that must be wandering across his cheeks. He certainly doesn't think of the many debauched ways Hannibal could be taking care of himself while he finishes the discussion. And he certainly doesn't plot the fastest way back to his office where he can alleviate his own discomfort.

 

Hannibal understandably cancels their next appointment. He's the only one that takes regular advantage of Will's office hours anyway, and certainly the only one to keep a set schedule. It still leaves a dreary hole in an otherwise bright spot that Will's grown used to, and he can't quite distract himself from thoughts of what Hannibal might be doing for that long and lonely hour.

 

The following class, Hannibal seems in normal spirits, but twenty minutes in he makes his gesture quite suddenly, so quickly that Will takes a few minutes to notice it himself. He looks at Hannibal and gives him a brief questioning look that says  _ Again? So soon? _

 

Hannibal replies with the minutest of shrugs and lets his lower lip pout against his finger. Will dismisses him with a blink and a jerk of his chin, ignoring the confused looks that a scattering of students give both him and the young man who's abruptly leaving in the middle of class for the second time in a week.

 

He tries to call Hannibal later that evening, just to confirm that he's not having a more adverse reaction to his new suppressants, but it rings straight to voicemail. Will stumbles over a few nonsensical sounds before he disconnects the call with a resigned grimace and wanders out to his porch. He sits on the rocking chair with a tumbler of whiskey, three of the dogs arranged lopsidedly at his feet, and doesn't drink. Just rests the edge of the glass under his lower lip and lets the scent wash over him.

 

Rosie wakes him at three in the morning, licking at his fingers, the glass having fallen to the floor and spilled out hours ago. Will drags himself to bed and heaves himself face first into the pillows, ignoring the bone-deep ache inside him.

 

The next class, Hannibal does it again.

 

His eyes bore into Will’s, lust-darkened as the color spills into his cheeks. Will knows he’s toeing a fine line, but he excuses him anyway, more than certain that he’s being played.

 

Still, it’s working. His waking hours are filled with thoughts of Hannibal, how hot and wet he felt, how snugly he fit around his cock. More than once he finds himself replaying their too-brief night together, remembering the sweet sounds of Hannibal’s cries as Will spills over his own hand. It’s a special brand of fever he’s spun himself into, and it has to stop. He’d confront Hannibal if he could, but he keeps cancelling their appointments, and at this point Will’s not entirely sure if the man is just a spirit haunting both his brain and his dick.

 

The following class, Will draws the line. Hannibal makes his little gesture after barely 10 minutes, and Will looks him straight in the eye and shakes his head. He continues on with his lecture, physically restraining himself from looking at Hannibal, decidedly satisfied with this oneupmanship.

 

Satisfied, that is, until the scent begins to permeate the room.

 

Peach. Fire. Whiskey. It’s unmistakeable, and Will can feel tendrils of want climbing up his spine. He finally looks back at Hannibal, and the sight nearly brings him to his knees. Face entirely flushed, forehead beaded with sweat, fingers digging into his thighs in futile restraint. His eyes are fogged with lust and pleading. Guilt punches Will in the gut and he gives Hannibal an apologetic nod, watching as he nearly bolts from the room. A few of the alpha students have their chins up, sniffing at the air. Will gruffly orders someone to open a window and doesn’t remark upon it further.

 

He returns to his office in shame after class. He’s already decided to collect his things and leave a sign saying office hours are closed for the day, but when he opens his door he’s almost knocked sideways.

 

The small space  _ reeks _ of Hannibal. He closes the door quickly behind him, breathing heavily. Hannibal is nowhere to be seen, but it’s more than clear that he was here. Will sees it instantly in his mind’s eye.

 

_ Hannibal, sitting low in Will’s chair, legs spread wide as he thrusts two - no, three - fingers inside himself. Slick dripping down his ass and soaking into the seat of the chair, his free hand fisting his cock. Eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flaring, Will’s name but a whisper between his lips. Slipping his thumb over the head of his cock and rubbing the slit, everything around him sticky and dripping. Adjusting his thighs so he can hit that angle inside himself just right, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough because it’s not Will moving inside him, so he grits his teeth and tries to pretend that his hands are not his own. Coming with a choked cry and another wave of slick, semen coating his fingers and chest. Wiping it up with a handkerchief and leaving the evidence behind, trusting Will to see what he has done. _

 

Will picks up the handkerchief and brings it to his nose. His dick pulses in his trousers and he stuffs the scrap of fabric into his pocket, slinging his bag back over his shoulder and heading to his car.

 

He pauses as he pulls out of the faculty parking lot. He should drive right to Hannibal's house and scold him, tell him that what he did was entirely inappropriate, that this needs to stop now. But scolding would lead to wanting which would lead to fucking, which is exactly what Hannibal wants. So Will heads for home instead, pulling over to the side of the road halfway there to jerk off into the handkerchief because he can't wait another second.

 

Hannibal cancels another appointment and excuses himself from the following class, and it’s a good week before Will sees him again, entirely by accident as they cross paths in the hallway. As soon as they make eye contact, Hannibal ducks his head and walks faster. Will marches towards him and grabs him by the elbow.

 

“My office, now.”

 

“I can’t, I have--”

 

“I don’t care. My office.”

 

Hannibal nods mutely.

 

Will marches them stiffly down the hall, keenly aware that Hannibal is one hard line of tension beside him. He holds the door for him when they reach it, then barrels inside, slinging his bag to the floor with a thud.

 

“You have to stop.”

 

“Stop what?” Hannibal asks far too innocently as he closes the door behind him.

 

"Don’t bullshit me.” Will sits heavily behind his desk, trying not to raise his voice. “Every single class for the last two weeks."

 

Hannibal isn’t even fully seated yet. “There may have been some false alarms.”

 

Will snorts disbelievingly. "False alarms?"

 

Hannibal says nothing, only sets his bag quietly against a chair leg. Will exhales in frustration and points across the table at him.

 

“What about the handkerchief?”

 

“I do apologize,” Hannibal tells him, “I’m incredibly embarrassed. My heat completely overtook me and, well… you know what I did.”

 

Will scrapes a hand across his beard and leans his head back. "You can't keep doing this."

 

“I don’t have much choice in the matter.”

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

Shaking his head, Hannibal crosses his arms defensively. “Not since you fucked me.”

 

Will raises his head. “Excuse me?”

 

Hannibal frowns, his tone icy and clinical.

 

“My body instinctively reacts when I’m near you. As unused to being in heat as I am, it’s sometimes difficult to differentiate between that and simple arousal.” He squints at Will. “Why do you think I keep cancelling our appointments?”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying, quite simply, that ever since you fucked me I become aroused by the mere sight of you.”

 

Will unpacks this information in stunned silence. He watches as Hannibal uncrosses his arms and leans forward, fingertips at the edge of Will’s desk.

 

"I'm saying,” he says slowly, “that you could bend me over this desk right now and I would be glad to let you take me."

 

The room warms with the scent of ripened peaches and Will scrapes his chair back in alarm. 

 

"How are you doing that?"

 

"Doing what?"

 

"I can smell you. You’re not in heat, and I can smell you."

 

Hannibal doesn’t try to hide the smile that ripens the curve of his mouth. "How curious."

 

"Don't fuck with me."

 

"I’m not. You’re doing it too."

 

Will is about to ask  _ doing what _ when Hannibal takes a loud elaborate sniff and hums in satisfaction.

 

"Do you want to know what you smell like to me, Will?"

 

"Something with a ship on the bottle,” he snipes, “or so I've been told."

 

Hannibal shakes his head gently. "The Baltic Sea."

 

Will softens slightly at the confession.

 

"It's comforting,” Hannibal continues, “you smell like home."

 

Waves are crashing against Will’s guard and he feels helpless to defend himself. "You can't - don't say that."

 

"Would you tell me what I smell like?"

 

_ Everything I've ever wanted, _  Will thinks. "Temptation," he says instead, which is just as honest.

 

Hannibal leans forward in his chair, turns one hand palm up on the desk.

 

"Can I tempt you?"

 

Will sits unmoving for a moment, nostrils flaring as he stares at the offering before him. Then, slow and deliberate, Will takes up Hannibal's hand, arches his wrist toward his mouth and scents him. Hannibal's fingers twitch a little and he makes a quiet ' _ oh _ ' sound. Will keeps his face pressed close as he takes another long inhale, nosing at the delicate skin.

 

"The next time you use your little gesture," Will says quietly, "you have to mean it."

 

Hannibal goes very still. "What will you do then?"

  
  
"I don't know," Will answers honestly. He strokes his thumb over Hannibal's steady pulse. "But I'm not doing anything if you keep abusing your power."

 

"I have power?"

 

Will barks a single, quick laugh. "You know you fucking do, Hannibal, you're driving me insane just sitting here.” He lowers his voice to a fireside whisper. “All I want to do is haul you up and bend you over my desk and fuck you until we're both blind from it."

 

He releases Hannibal's hand back to the desk, the dangerous intimacy between them broken. Hannibal rubs his fingers over the warm spot where Will had touched him.

 

"You could."

 

"I know."

 

"I'd let you."

 

"I know."

 

Hannibal takes a quick breath, holds it, then looks away.

 

"I won't gesture to you again unless it's a true emergency. You have my word."

 

"Thank you."

 

They both stand as Hannibal exits, but before he can clear the door Will is up and behind him, burying his nose in the crook of his student’s neck. Hannibal instantly falls back against him.

 

"Peaches," Will murmurs, "roasted in honey. Firewood. And the best fucking whiskey I've ever tasted."

 

Hannibal's mouth hangs open, his eyes fluttering under closed eyelids.

 

"That's what you smell like," Will says, ghosting his lips across Hannibal’s now-risen pulse. Then he gives him a gentle shove out the door and closes it between them.

 

-x-

 

Hannibal stays on his best behavior for far too long.

 

He takes unnecessary notes in class and offers advice to some of the more behind students, encouraging them to attend Will’s open office hours (which frustrates Will to no end). He participates more eagerly then ever before, his conduct exemplary, and all of it does nothing more than drive Will close to madness. If it weren’t for the fact that Will can still smell Hannibal in his office, Will could almost believe that they’d never been anything more than cordial professor and student. 

 

He finds himself watching Hannibal throughout each class, entirely unsubtle in his search for a cue, any cue to indicate an exit might be forthcoming. On one occasion, his heart leaps in his chest and time freezes as he watches Hannibal’s finger drift from his lap towards his face. Then his fingers fan and he pats at his immaculate hair, giving Will a cursory glance and a wan smile.

 

Will starts to wonder if may the new heat suppressants Hannibal had told him of were taking effect, that he’s finally adjusting and no longer in need of assistance of any kind. There’s time enough to ask now with their appointments back on a regular schedule, but the cold fear that Hannibal might confirm his suspicions keeps the question locked deep away.

 

He’s almost decided that he’s actually losing his mind when Hannibal finally -  _ finally _ \- makes his gesture again.

 

It’s been so long that Will believes he must be hallucinating it, but Hannibal quietly clears his throat and draws attention to his perfect finger resting against his perfect lip, and Will almost weeps with joy.

 

Then he forces his joy aside and schools his expression into something impassive. He’s been preparing for this long enough that he’s not going to fuck it up by drooling like a schoolboy. He makes brief eye contact with Hannibal and nods minutely, focusing his attention back on the class.

 

Will waits until Hannibal has stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, watches him get halfway to the door, then turns quite abruptly toward him.

 

"Mr. Lecter, I don't recall excusing you from class."

 

Hannibal freezes in place, looking genuinely shocked. "What?"

 

Will gestures to his bag. "Is there somewhere else you’d rather be?"

 

"No, but I--"

 

Will lifts a sudden hand in the air. "Wait, I’m so sorry, never mind," He fills his voice with exaggeratedly false contrition. “I forgot about your e-mail. Go, I left today’s assignments for you.” His mouth curls in the barest of smirks. " _ In my office _ ."

 

The message is received loud and clear. Hannibal's eyes blow wide and he swallows involuntarily.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

He knows Hannibal will make the trek down the corridor towards his office, blood pumping fast as slick gathers between his legs. He knows Hannibal will be twisting with need, expectant and eager. And he knows that Hannibal will find nothing there to fill the ache except a folded sheet of paper, containing Will's address and a note.

 

A note that Will has left out on his desk before every Abnormal Psych class for the past month and a half, hoping he will have cause to send Hannibal to collect it.

 

A note that simply says  _ Meet me here. _

 

Will speeds home after class with his heart lodged in his throat. He parks almost-sideways in his driveway and sighs in relief when he looks up at his porch. Hannibal sits waiting for him in the rocking chair, his hair disheveled, tie slung careless about his neck and shirt unbuttoned to show the glistening hollow of his throat. His legs are spread wide and Will could swear he sees a faint dotting of slick seeped through the fabric of his trousers. Hannibal licks his lips when he sees Will stalking towards him.

 

"Did you enjoy that little display of yours?"

 

Will bounds up the porch step in one leap, fists a hand in Hannibal’s open collar and drags him up from the chair.

 

"Shut up," he growls, and crushes their mouths together.

 

Hannibal’s kiss tastes even better than his intoxicating scent. He winds his arms around Will's neck and moans into his mouth, melting against him.

 

"You win," Will says, as he kisses and sucks at Hannibal's maddening lower lip. "You fucking win."

 

Hannibal makes an exceedingly pleased sound and bites at Will's jaw. "We are a zero sum game, Professor."

 

Will walks them backward to the door, hands palming Hannibal's ass. Heat radiates beneath his fingers.

 

"Say my name."

 

Hannibal tips his head back, smiling contentedly. "Will," he murmurs, then his eyes go dark and he leans forward, lips brushing Will's ear. " _ My _ Will," he whispers.

 

Will kicks his front door nearly off its hinges. He whistles his dogs outside and they scamper frantically around the tangled legs in their way.

 

"Bed," he says, giving Hannibal a shove. "There." Will jerks his chin toward the middle of the living room, hands already scrabbling at the stiff buttons of his shirt "Strip. Now."

 

"You sleep in your living room?"

 

Buttons skitter across the floor as Will tears his shirt in frustration. "Psychoanalyze me later. Clothes off."

 

Hannibal's eyes flash as he undresses quickly. "I like this side of you," he says.

 

Will shrugs off the tatters of his shirt and makes quick work of his trousers. Hannibal is almost naked now, save his underwear, and his scent hangs thick in the air. Will takes a deep lungful, his chest rumbling.

 

Hannibal looks at Will's stormy face and bites his lip between his teeth. He lays back on the bed, slipping a hand under the hem of his boxer-briefs.

 

"These off too?"

 

Will's nose flickers in a little snarl and he strides toward the bed, climbing atop and nudging Hannibal’s thighs apart with his knee. He bends low and kisses him deep, tongue stroking inside his mouth. Hannibal slips his arms back around Will's shoulders and rakes fingers up through his hair. 

 

Will drags his hand down Hannibal's body and between his legs, rubbing softly at the wet patch that soaks the cleft of his ass. Then he lets his fingers trail up, cupping Hannibal’s cock.

 

“I'm going to taste every part of you,” Will promises, adding a little pressure to Hannibal's aching sex. Hannibal whimpers and tugs Will toward him for a sloppy kiss, licking the corner of his mouth. Will turns a little to catch his student’s bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it until it’s swollen and hot, then laving the tender flesh with just the tip of his tongue. 

 

“This lip,” he murmurs, “this lip has been the fucking death of me.”

 

Hannibal reaches up between their mouths, slipping the tip of his index finger over Will’s tongue. Will chuckles and closes his lips around the offered digit, giving it a noisy suck. 

 

“Yeah,” he says as he releases his mouthful, “yeah, that finger too.” He pushes up and begins to make his way down Hannibal’s body, marking him with kisses and bites along the way. When he reaches the source of Hannibal’s arousal, he inhales deeply before hooking his fingers into the waist of Hannibal’s underwear.

 

“Up.”

 

Hannibal raises his hips from the bed instantly and Will drags his nearly ruined briefs down around his ankles and then off. He stops only to free himself in turn, giving his dick a warning squeeze before he settles himself between Hannibal’s legs. He pushes his thighs apart with his hands, marveling at the slick that gathers beneath him. Hannibal’s hole is pink and bare, and Will reaches out to drag a fingertip over the newly smooth skin.

 

“What’s this?” he teases as he draws circles around Hannibal’s silky-soft hole. “Did you prepare for me?”

 

Hannibal tries to maneuver closer to the teasing finger, beads of slick dripping out. “I've been preparing for you since you first took me.”

 

Will groans and buries his face in the crease between Hannibal’s hip and thigh. Hannibal reaches down and winds a hand in his hair.

 

“Come back up here.”

 

“Oh no, darlin’,” Will drawls, “I'm going to take you apart first.”

 

Without warning, he shifts his angle, holds Hannibal’s cheeks open, and dives in. 

 

Hannibal howls as if he's been electrocuted. Will licks several thick stripes over his rim, drawing out the gathering wetness. He tastes delicious, and Will feasts like a starving man. He sucks over and over across his opening, probing with his tongue as the muscle slackens under his mouth. Hannibal whines and squirms, helpless.

 

“Will - don't - you'll make me come.”

 

Will looks up, smiling. “That would be the plan.”

 

Hannibal blinks blearily. “But--”

 

“I'm going to make you come with my mouth, right now. And then I'm going to make you come on my cock. And then I'm going to knot you and make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

 

“I can't --”

 

“Oh, you will. For me. Now be a good boy and let me pleasure you.”

 

A gush of slick flows heavy over his tongue and Will moans in delight. He spreads Hannibal wider, dipping the tip of his thumb into Hannibal’s hole as he stretches him wide enough so that Will can spear him with his tongue. Hannibal’s hips roll and Will reaches one hand out to hold him down, fucking into him with his tongue and forcing Hannibal to endure every ecstatic second of it. Hannibal’s breath speeds up, losing tempo and the muscles of his thighs draw taut. Will keeps licking and sucking and dragging his tongue around every sensitive part of him, until Hannibal starts to shake with the tension. Slippping his thumb free, Will cups Hannibal’s balls in his free hand, feeling them tighten under his fingers. He thrusts deeper and hums loudly, letting the vibrations rock through Hannibal’s body.

 

“Nnn,” Hannibal cries, “ _ ah _ , Will, I’m --”

 

Lightining quick, Will releases Hannibal’s balls and lets his hand slide up, a breeze of a touch to Hannibal’s stiff cock. He presses just lightly under the frenulum, and Hannibal comes like a rocket. Wetness drips over Will’s face, cum splashing onto his fingers as Hannibal wails and sobs under him.

 

Will looks up, his mouth and chin glistening. Hannibal sprawls flat, half-dazed and gasping. He rubs his palms on the outside of Hannibal’s thighs, over the crease of his hip, further up his stomach, one finger swirling patterns in the sticky pool of his release. Every inch of skin blazes with warmth. He braces himself on his elbows and begins to climb up Hannibal’s body, smearing kisses over his torso as he goes, a shining trail left in his wake. When he reaches Hannibal’s mouth, he teases a kiss with a brush of his parted lips, a light flick of his tongue. Hannibal immediately bows up from the bed to grab at him.

 

“Taste yourself,” Will says, plunging his tongue deep into Hannibal’s mouth. The kiss is messy and hungry, Hannibal’s hands tangling back into his hair and holding him fast. Will’s cock throbs red and painful between them, and he lets it graze tantalizingly against Hannibal’s lower stomach. Hannibal breaks the kiss, turning his head aside and breathing harshly as his hips rise from the sheets in supplication.

 

“Please,” he gasps, “inside me.”

 

Will grabs his chin in one hand and forces Hannibal’s face back toward him.

 

“Look at me,” he orders. Hannibal’s eyes fix on him and his breath hitches.

 

“Good,” Will says warmly. He drops a tender kiss to Hannibal’s lips and strokes his cheek with his thumb. “Are you ready?”

 

Hannibal nods, mouth hanging open as Will reaches between them to guide his cock into Hannibal’s still-twitching hole.

 

It’s even more perfect than he remembered. Will slides in achingly slow, each tender inch rendering another gasp from his emptying lungs.

 

“ _ Fuck _ , I missed this.”

 

Hannibal grabs at his shoulders and tries to pull him down, maneuver him deeper inside. Will just hushes him and holds taut, brushing another kiss to his swollen lips.

 

“Ssh, gently,” he murmurs, “let me take care of you.”

 

He sinks in another inch and Hannibal makes a wrecked, cracking sort of sound. His fingers jerk stiffly around Will’s biceps and his head tips back, presenting the line of his throat. Will smiles and noses at his pulse, licking the heat of it into his mouth. He sucks a little patch of skin between his teeth and quickly releases it, bearing down as he sinks further inside.

 

“Will." Hannibal is near breathless. “You're exquisite...”

 

Will lowers himself a little more, letting their chests press together. He can feel the inner lining of muscle try to suck him in further, and it takes all of his self control not to rear back and slam fully home. But Hannibal deserves a slow and methodical torture after weeks of inflicting the same, and it seems only fitting that Will should be the one to dismantle and then put him back together. So Will just holds very still and breathes out, letting Hannibal feel every atom of his heartbeat.

 

He is nearly completely inside when Hannibal goes unusually lax beneath him. He looks up to see that Hannibal’s head has lolled to one side, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

 

“Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal surges up suddenly, all four limbs clinging to Will as he draws him the last inch inside, panting wildly into Will’s ear.

 

“ _ Alpha _ ,” Hannibal slurs. His voice is unnaturally reedy. His hips twitch in abortive little thrusts, but without Will’s assistance there’s little actual fucking going on.

 

“Hannibal,” Will says, “stay with me.”

 

Heat delirium is entirely common in omegas, but Will has never experienced it first-hand. Most alphas have been taught to just fuck on through it, but the thought of doing so without Hannibal fully present sends an unpleasant chill up his spine. He pulls back and tries to disengage himself. Hannibal’s eyes are half-open but glazed over, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Hey,” Will’s tone grows sharper, “Hannibal, come back.”

 

“It's too much,” says a voice that sounds a little more like Hannibal, “I can’t.”

 

“Yes you can. Be here with me.”

 

Hannibal shakes his head.

 

It’s hard to disentangle himself, so Will gets lower and smoothes his hands over Hannibal’s cheeks, his hair.

 

“Hannibal,” he says softly, then again, “Hannibal, I won’t do this if you’re not here.”

 

He slips a hand under Hannibal’s neck and brings his head up, forcing his nose into the curve of Will’s own throat.

 

“Breathe,” he whispers, and Hannibal sniffs a little. “Deeper. What do you smell?”

 

“Mmnn…”

 

“Again.”

 

He feels a pull of tension as Hannibal inhales again, stronger this time. Hannibal takes two long breaths and his legs slowly slide down from their death grip. Will carefully lets him go and looks into Hannibal’s eyes, relieved to find them clear again.

 

“The sea,” Hannibal tells him, his voice low and rich again.

 

“Good,” Will says, and kisses him.

 

They begin to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT? KARE HOW DARE YOU.
> 
> I know, but THEY WOULDN'T STOP TALKING.
> 
>  **Chapter 3: Mating** will be posted tomorrow evening!
> 
> ....there might end up being a Chapter 4 too. These fucking nerds.


	3. Mating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being inside Hannibal Lecter feels a lot like dying, like a constant fall with no net, a drop from a cliff with no way to tell the depth of the ocean beneath.
> 
> But it also feels a lot like living, the hot timpani of Hannibal’s pulse under Will’s fingers and mouth and around his cock, pumping around him in single syllables, as though each beat is saying Will, Will, Will.

Will refuses to let Hannibal’s eyes leave his as he fucks into him. He cups his cheek in his hand, brushing their noses together, whispering to him how incredible he feels. Hannibal looks at him like something holy and fearsome, lips trembling as he tries to let everything he’s feeling wash over him without retreating back into delirium.

 

It’s still too much - it’s too much for both of them. Being inside Hannibal Lecter feels a lot like dying, like a constant fall with no net, a drop from a cliff with no way to tell the depth of the ocean beneath.

 

But it also feels a lot like living, the hot timpani of Hannibal’s pulse under Will’s fingers and mouth and around his cock, pumping around him in single syllables, as though each beat is saying  _ Will, Will, Will _ .

 

It’s not just Hannibal’s heart saying _Will_ , it’s his mouth too, which forms the name almost voicelessly as Will sits up, hooking his arms under Hannibal’s knees to hoist them over his shoulders. The angle opens Hannibal up in an entirely new way and they both groan aloud, Hannibal hands fisting in the sheets beneath as he is speared on Will’s cock.

 

“Christ,” Will curses, his voice growing hoarse, “fuck,  _ Hannibal _ .”

 

Sweat drips from his brow to Hannibal’s stomach, mingling with the mess of fluids already gathered there. He squeezes Hannibal’s calves and withdraws almost completely, holding for a long beat, the head of his dick just catching on Hannibal’s slippery rim.

 

Will waits, and breathes  _ 1... 2… 3... _ , watching Hannibal’s face as he tries to be patient, tries not to fuck himself back upwards onto Will’s waiting cock. It’s a beautiful sight, watching his normally oh-so-composed student come undone, and Will draws the moment out a beat longer, letting Hannibal start to twist beneath him.

 

Then he makes one long, swift thrust to the hilt and Hannibal nearly weeps with relief.

 

“Good,” Will soothes, “so good,” and begins fucking him in earnest, his balls smacking wetly against Hannibal’s ass.

 

Between them, Hannibal has grown hard again, cock flexing against his stomach. Will is determined to make good on his promise, so he releases his grip on one of Hannibal’s legs and reaches lower to encircle Hannibal in his fist.

 

“My prize student,” he says sweetly, sweeping his thumb through the fluid that wells at the tip. “Sitting in the front of my class with that damn finger on your mouth. Fingering your ass in  _ my office _ . It still smells like you, you know.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes gleam with pride. “I know,” he purrs.

 

“You knew. You knew you’d break me.”

 

He gives Hannibal a squeeze, toying the delicious line between pleasure and pain.

 

“Well, you have me now. And I’m going to show you as much mercy as you gave me.” Will brings his other hand to where they are joined, coating two fingers in slick and sliding them in beside his cock, stretching Hannibal further. Hannibal jerks in surprise and Will plunges his fingers deeper, crooking them to rub harshly over Hannibal’s prostate.

 

Between the hand stroking his cock, the cock inside him and the fingers fucking him alongside that, Hannibal is starting to crack apart. Will revels in it.

 

“Are you ready to come for me again?”

 

Hannibal shakes his head wildly and Will tuts at him.

 

“I think you are.”

 

He wraps his hand tight around Hannibal’s dick and starts to stroke him just out of sync with his thrusts. Will marvels as he watches Hannibal fight for control, as heady desire paints his features, makes him pant and plead and quake. His entire body seizes taut as a bowstring as he comes a second time, his cock twitching out a weak string as he drenches Will in slick. Will is seized with the urge to kiss him, so he does, though it’s hardly a kiss, Hannibal’s mouth wide open as he shakes beneath him.

 

“Put your legs around my waist,” Will instructs. Hannibal obeys instantly, the action drawing their bodies even closer together. Hannibal is still mid-orgasm as Will thrusts roughly inside him, pouring all his tightly-held want into him. His knot half-formed already, Will releases the finger that held Hannibal open and replaces it with every last inch of his cock. Hannibal yelps and whines, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

 

Will slides his arms under Hannibal’s back and pulls him up until he’s sitting in his lap. Hannibal immediately turns his head away, burying his face into Will’s shoulder as he clings to him. Will shakes his head, kissing Hannibal’s sweaty face as he drags him back and forces him to look into his eyes.

 

“This is what you created in me,” Will says firmly, “you don't get to hide from it now.”

 

Hannibal’s mouth falls open, his gaze awed and wet. Will’s knot throbs inside him, locking them together as he holds Hannibal fast, barely moving, just staring into his wild eyes and stroking his face and hair. He can feel his release building tight within him, having held it back for the sake of inflicting Hannibal with unyielding pleasure. But now, looking at the source of his creation and destruction, Will is overcome.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and his words unravel Hannibal faster than anything his body could do.

 

Barely yet hard again, Hannibal comes dry, walls squeezing around Will’s dick, surprise writ large across his face.

 

“Will,” he chokes out, “ _ Oh _ , Will.”

 

Between Hannibal’s overwhelmed trembling, his tight clench around him, and the final rush of slick hot over his cock, Will can no longer hold it back. He comes with a bone-deep juddering, holding Hannibal hard and kissing him with violent force, teeth clacking together as pulse after pulse of hot come shoots out of him. Hannibal milks every drop of it, face half-mashed into the kiss, fevered beyond his limit.

 

Will feels Hannibal’s muscles begin to loosen as they come down. He gently lowers him to the bed, unsurprised to find that Hannibal has passed out. He rolls them to their sides, making sure that Hannibal has support for his head, that his limbs are relaxed and untangled. Then he kisses his forehead, wipes the sweat-matted hair from his face and slings a loose arm around him, breathing deeply as he watches Hannibal sleep.

 

When Will feels himself deflate, he pulls out slowly, careful not to disturb Hannibal, who makes a drowsy, petulant sound all the same. Will hushes him, rubbing a soothing palm down his arm as he rolls over and out of the bed. He heads to the bathroom and splashes a little water on his face, then wets a cloth and gives himself a cursory wipe down. He leaves it on the rim of the tub and wets a fresh one, returning to Hannibal’s side and gently cleaning him as best as he can. Hannibal snuffles into his pillow, making a sound of contentment at the preening. 

 

Will smiles fondly, then sets the cloth to the side and pads to the kitchen. He pours a glass of water and downs it in three gulps before refilling it and pouring another glass for Hannibal. Then he opens his fridge and pulls out some cheese and tomato and leftover roast chicken, tearing a few leaves of lettuce from the iceberg in the crisper drawer. He slices some bread and makes a simple sandwich, cutting it in two and eating half for himself. Then he plates the second half and sets it and the glass by Hannibal’s bedside.

 

He crawls back into bed, facing Hannibal, and touches two fingers to his lips. Hannibal pouts a sleepy kiss and his eyes slowly drift open, mouth curving lazily. His scent curls through the air, thickeningly quickly, and he reaches instinctively for Will, but Will gentlly restrains him and sits up.

 

“Eat first,” he instructs, pointing to the glass and plate.

 

Hannibal grumbles and reaches again, but Will just gives him a stern look.

 

“Cruel,” Hannibal mutters, “needlessly cruel.”

 

Will folds his arms, one brow arching. “You’re welcome.”

 

Hannibal just picks up the glass and takes several long swallows before he puts the plate in his lap and takes a bite of the sandwich. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before looking back at Will.

 

“I should cook for you,” he says.

 

“Jesus,” Will laughs, a little taken aback. “You’re not used to hospitality, are you?”

 

Frowning, Hannibal takes another sip of water. “What do you mean?”

 

“Nothing,” Will says, shaking his head with a smile, “eat up so I can fuck you again.”

 

Hannibal snort-laughs around his bite of sandwich, which in turn triggers a peal of giggles from Will, who leans back against the headboard, stretching out his legs. Hannibal sidles up next to him, tucking his feet in Will’s lap. He finishes his meal in silence as Will rubs each foot, digging into the pressure points of his arches with his thumbs.

 

Hannibal sets the plate back down and drinks the last of his water, his face deep in thought. Then he lays down on his side, giving Will’s hand a tug so he follows. Will stretches out beside him, his chest spooned to Hannibal’s back.

 

"I've never experienced heat delirium before."

 

Hannibal’s words come out hesitant and self-conscious. When Will raises his head to look at him, he turns his face into the pillow.

 

"Me neither.” Will touches his arm. “You scared me a little there."

 

"You could have continued.” It’s almost a question. “You knew I was willing. I wouldn't have been upset."

 

"No,” Will says firmly. “You weren't  _ you _ ." He touches Hannibal's chin and turns their faces together. " _ You _ are what I've been fighting against. Not your body."

 

Hannibal makes a plaintive, disbelieving sound and Will traces his fingers over the angles of his face; over his eyelids, his cheekbones, his lips.

 

"I didn't deny myself for that long just so I could rut into a mindless body.” Will nuzzles the corner of Hannibal's mouth, feeling the smile forming there. “I wanted Hannibal."

 

"Who knew you were such a romantic, Professor Graham."

 

Will chuckles and trails his hand down to Hannibal's chest, drawing lazy figure-eights across his skin. 

 

"I think you did. I think that's why you picked me."

 

Hannibal turns his face away, tucking himself back into Will's embrace. "I didn't pick you."

 

"Oh?" Will hooks his chin over Hannibal's shoulder. "Should I be insulted?"

 

"To say that I picked you implies that I had a choice. I was yours before I could decide it for myself."

 

Hannibal's voice has gone soft and small, the most timid he's ever sounded, and the most true. Will digests the confession with a warm feeling in his belly, keeps tracing lines over Hannibal's chest. His fingers wander over a nipple and he takes it between his fingers, delighted to hear a little hiss from Hannibal in return. He squeezes lightly, then a little firmer, lets his nail flick the stiffening nub.

 

Hannibal begins to grow restless under his ministrations, wriggling back to ensure their bodies are pressed as tightly close as possible. Will moves to the other nipple, tugging and rolling it between his fingers. Hannibal mewls and grabs at Will's hand, not pulling him away, just holding on as Will continues to explore.

 

"You're sensitive here," Will observes, pinching just hard enough to make Hannibal wince in delight.

 

"Mm." Hannibal's skin is growing hotter, the next rolling wave of his heat imminent. "I'm sensitive everywhere you touch."

 

They're nestled so tight together that it's impossible not to feel the slick beginning to seep from Hannibal, coating Will's groin and thighs. Will ducks his head to kiss Hannibal's throat, his jaw, the fine hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses every part he can reach, open-mouthed so he can relish the tang of Hannibal's whiskey-peach sweat.

 

He rubs and pulls at Hannibal's nipples until they are overhot to the touch, then his hands wander southward, gently caressing the outline of his hardening cock, dipping lower to finger the rivulets of slick that leak copiously from his hole.

 

"So beautiful," Will murmurs, giving a little thrust to Hannibal's behind to show how ready he is to take him again. Hannibal lays dreamily pliant as Will gently lifts his leg to open him up, gasping as Will just slips right inside.

 

They don't move much, just lay spooned on their side as Will rocks in to him. He strokes Hannibal through to quiet completion, wiping the tears from his face as they spill out. Then he kisses the back of his neck and lets himself knot again, this time remaining inside him as they wander back to sleep.

 

-x-

 

“So, what exactly do you cook?”

 

Hannibal shrugs. “Everything.”

 

It’s some ungodly hour in the morning, but they’ve been drifting between fucking and drowsing for so long that time has lost most of its meaning. Now they sit somewhere in-between, conscious but not currently coupled. The scent of Hannibal’s heat still lingers, but instead of climbing atop Will he snuggles next to him, curling his knees to his chest. 

 

“Everything?” Will asks.

 

“I taught myself how at an early age. I’ve been on my own long enough that it became necessary.”

 

Will slides his arm around Hannibal’s shoulders.

 

“How long have you been alone?” he asks quietly.

 

“Ten years, almost. I was eleven when my parents died. My sister was taken from me too. They sent us to different orphanages, I never found out what happened to her.”

 

Will rests his chin on top of Hannibal’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s not your doing.” Hannibal replies. “I’m glad she survived, at least.”

 

A plaintive whine comes from the front door, followed by an insistent scratching. Will sighs and disentangles himself.

 

“Hey, guys,” he says, “come on in.”

 

The dogs plod inside, and Will watches with amusement as Hannibal counts them off, his eyebrows raising as they keep on coming.

 

“Seven?” Hannibal says in disbelief, “you have  _ seven _ dogs?”

 

Will fills their bowls and pats each one’s head, cooing.

 

“We deal with loneliness in our own ways,” he says. “You cook, I dog.”

 

Hannibal huffs a small chuckle, then he rolls to his stomach, stretching out on the bed, his ass held in the air.

 

“There are other ways of dealing with loneliness, I’ve found.” He looks up at Will, fire crackling in his eyes. “Much more satisfying ways.”

 

“Well,” Will quickly finishes washing under the kitchen faucet, almost dropping the towel from his now-trembling fingers. “Let’s explore them, shall we?” He looks down to the dogs still milling at his feet.

 

“You know, I do actually have a bedroom upstairs.”

 

Hannibal is on his feet before Will can say another word.

 

“First on the left!” He calls out, and chases after him.

 

-x-

 

Will wakes the next day to solid, wet heat on his cock, and he looks down to see Hannibal steadily licking him, his wakeful eyes boring into Will’s sleepy ones.

 

“Mornin’,” Will mumbles, and Hannibal repeats the greeting with a sucking kiss to the tip of his cock. Then he climbs atop him without a word and sinks down on him, and Will is encased in an entirely different wet heat that sends his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

 

“ _ Fuuuck _ .”

 

He strokes his hands up Hannibal’s thighs and grips his hips. Hannibal just smiles serenely and rides him, squeezing Will tight on the upstroke and releasing as he comes down. He makes it look entirely effortless, his cock bobbing elegantly against his stomach as he moves. Will moves one hand towards it but Hannibal just shakes his head and takes himself in hand instead. He tugs lazily at his cock, rubbing his palm over the head and letting the wetness that gathers there catch on his fingertips. Then he brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks, staring intently at Will all the while.

 

Will bucks his hips with a desirous moan. His knot is fully inflated now, but he knows Hannibal has taken it half a dozen times in the past twelve hours, and he might be sore, he might want the freedom to move independently once they’re done.

 

“Do you want me to --” Will starts, but the words die on his lips as Hannibal just bears down on him, flexing around his knot with a pleased sigh. Will groans and squeezes Hannibal’s hips, head tipping back against the mattress, his tongue caught between his teeth.

 

Hannibal says nothing, just works himself on Will with throaty half-voiced sounds of bliss, one palm braced on Will’s chest. He comes with a quiet shudder, Will’s name on his lips as he squeezes tight around him. Cum spatters across Will’s stomach and a small gush of slick coats his cock, though much less than before. The sight of Hannibal, head tossed back as he takes his pleasure, tips Will over the edge, and he follows him with a cry, cock pulsing inside him.

 

Hannibal falls forward and Will catches him, strong arms enveloping him as he strokes his back. They catch their breath between soft kisses and fond murmurs, and when they speak again it is almost instantaneous.

 

“My heat is almost over,” Hannibal says, at the same time Will says, “stay for the weekend.”

 

Hannibal jerks up in surprise. “The weekend?”

 

“Unless that’s - I’m sorry, is that too forward of me?”

 

“Will,” Hannibal teases, “you are currently knotted inside of me. It’s not too forward.”

 

“Good,” Will says contentedly, pulling Hannibal back down. “Because I really want you to stay.”

 

“I have nothing with me. No clothes, no toiletries, not even a toothbrush.”

 

“You can wear my clothes,” Will offers, “when we actually wear any.”

 

He feels Hannibal’s smile pressed into his neck. “Why am I not surprised that my alpha wants to see me parade around in his too-small shirts?”

 

The phrase ‘my alpha’ warms Will to his marrow, and he gives Hannibal’s hip a playful squeeze.

 

“My shirts are not too small.”

 

Hannibal chuckles and pushes himself up on his elbows, displaying his well-defined biceps. “They are for me.”

 

Will rolls his eyes and smacks Hannibal’s ass. “Terrible. You’re terrible.”

 

“And yet you want me to stay with you for the weekend.”

 

“I do.”

 

“It’s barely even Friday.”

 

“I know.”

 

Hannibal cocks his head. “You have classes to teach,” he points out.

 

Will shakes his head with a grin. “Already taken care of. I cancelled them while you were sleeping.”

 

“You prepared for this.”

 

“You don’t know the half of it. There’s already a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.” Relief floods him when Hannibal beams in response.

 

“What about you?” Will asks. “Can you afford to miss some classes with your nauseatingly perfect grades?”

 

Hannibal lips twitch, his eyes dancing with merriment. “Already taken care of. I cancelled them while you were sleeping.”

  
Will breaks into laughter at that, and Hannibal follows. He laughs, really laughs, with his mouth open, and Will catches a proper glimpse of his sharp teeth, one just slightly crooked. It’s a delightful imperfection in an otherwise completely perfect face, and it only makes Will love him more.

 

Then Will realizes that he paired ‘Hannibal’ and ‘love’ together in the same thought and he wonders if it’s entirely soon for him to be thinking such things.

 

_ No _ , a voice inside him says,  _ it really fucking isn’t _ .

 

-x-

 

Hannibal does indeed parade around in Will’s too-small shirts, which results in him being bent over the back of the sofa and fucked so hard his knees buckle. They spend the weekend talking and kissing and eating and making love and Will finds it entirely glorious and perfect. He’s more than certain that Hannibal does too. Monday morning comes far too soon, and with it a most unwanted departure.

 

“Come to my house for dinner tomorrow,” Hannibal says between kisses at the door. “I’ll cook.”

 

“I get it,” Will mock-huffs, “your cooking is better than mine.”

 

“Different, not better.” Another kiss. “Is that a yes?”

 

Will pulls Hannibal tight to him and kisses him properly, stroking their tongues together and nipping that favoured bottom lip. “Of course it is,” he says when he breaks for air.

 

They nuzzle each other quietly with small pecking kisses, neither one quite ready to let go.

 

“I’ll miss you terribly until then,” Hannibal confesses, and Will cups his face, affectionately thumbing his jaw line.

 

“I miss you already,” he counters, then screws up his face in a grimace. “That was cheesy. That was really cheesy. You should go before I say something even worse.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes soften. “Like what?”

 

_ Like ‘I love you, you shit, and you know it' _ , Will thinks. Instead, he kisses him one last time and gives him a gentle push toward the porch.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Hannibal gives him a nod and walks toward his car, a noticeable spring in his step.

 

“I look forward to it!” He calls back.

 

Will sighs contentedly, eyes not leaving him until he’s well clear of the driveway and halfway down the road.

 

-x-

 

Monday passes blearily without a hint of colour. Will keeps seeing the ghost of Hannibal in the hallways, but it’s never actually him. He feels a physical ache without him, so keenly felt it’s almost a pain.

 

He extends his office hours for the day, staying well until the last class is over and the lights begin to shutter off. Then he is seized with a foolish panic that maybe Hannibal decided to surprise him and is waiting at his house, which results in a warning ticket for driving far past the speed limit. The house, of course, is empty when he gets home, but the entire place reeks of Hannibal, and his dick throbs uselessly in response.

 

His dogs, at least, are happy to see him, and he fusses over each one, making up for the lack of attention they received over the weekend. He takes them for a run out into the field behind the house, working as much of the pent-up frustration from his system as he can. He comes back sweaty and wanting, and everything still looks gray.

 

Will strips the sheets from the upstairs bed and carries them down to the living room, cocooning himself in Hannibal’s scent. He’s so keyed up it takes far too long for him to drift to sleep, and when he dreams he dreams of peaches, and too-small shirts, and a slightly crooked smile.

 

Tuesday morning arrives with a burst of sunshine, and Will walks into Abnormal Psych to see Hannibal leaning casually against his desk.

 

“Good morning, Professor.”

 

Will sneaks a glance behind him, the hallway mercifully clear so early in the morning, and he rushes toward Hannibal, gathering him into his arms and kissing him breathless.

 

“Careful,” Hannibal warns breathily, “someone could walk in.”

 

Will just tightens his grip and tilts Hannibal’s head back to suck a mark over his throat.

 

“Right now, I really don’t fucking care,” he replies. “God, I missed you.”

 

Hannibal laughs, the vibrations of it feeding into Will’s mouth. “It’s only been a day.”

 

Will pulls back, affronted. “Are you saying you haven’t missed me?”

 

Hannibal gives him a withering look. “Use your nose.”

 

Will rumbles in his chest and scents him properly, nosing at all the pulse points he can find that are halfway decent. He sniffs behind his ears, his neck and throat, and each wrist, and when he finishes he kisses Hannibal’s lips, satisfied.

 

“You definitely missed me.”

 

Hannibal runs his hands through Will’s hair, giving the curls a light tug before he withdraws, putting a cushion of safety between them as the clock strikes eight overhead.

 

“I can’t wait until this wretched class is over,” Hannibal complains.

 

“You have something better to do today, Mr. Lecter?”

 

“No,” Hannibal explains, “this  _ entire _ class.”

 

“Oh,” Will leans against his desk, arms folded smugly. “And why is that?”

 

“Because then you will no longer be my teacher - although you will still be  _ my professor _ .” 

 

Will blushes, his collar suddenly very tight.

 

“And then,” Hannibal continues, “you can kiss me without fear, you can make love to me until I’m sore from it,  _ and _ ,” he looks up at Will languidly, “you can bite me, just here.”

 

He slides a finger up to the taut muscles that shift under the skin of his throat, just by the jugular. The traditional spot for bonding marks.

 

Will’s hand shoots out to grip the edge of his desk. Hannibal dances the fingers of his free hand across the table to playfully stroke Will’s painfully white knuckles.

 

“Hannibal --”

 

Whatever Will had to say is lost to the ether as the spell breaks and his students begin to meander into the classroom. Hannibal’s hand drops from his neck effortlessly, and his expression slides into one of placid calm.

 

“Thank you for explaining, Professor,” he says with rote efficiency. Then, with his face turned from the rest of the class, he winks saucily and walks to his seat without another word.

 

Will floats through class with the broadest of smiles that refuses to budge from his face. Hannibal doesn’t stay after, just gives him a tiny nod that somehow manages to communicate volumes.

 

_ I’ll see you this evening, you have my address, I look forward to making you dinner and I can’t wait until you’re inside me again. _

 

Will replies with a nod of his own.

 

_ Yes you will, I’ve had it memorized since I fucked you the first time, you can make me mac and cheese for all I care and I want to be inside you so badly it fucking hurts. _

 

He’s walking so quickly through the halls at the end of the day that he almost runs smack into Alana Bloom, one of the few colleagues he would actually entertain calling a friend. He apologizes profusely and she deflects, her eyes sparkling.

 

“I’m glad we ran into each other,” she says, “I have a bone to pick with you.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Will says in mock terror. “What have I done?”

 

“Hannibal Lecter.” Alana’s face turns horribly serious.

 

Will’s face drains to milk-white. “What?”

 

“Everyone is telling me what an astonishingly bright student he is, but I can hardly take credit for his exemplary peformance when you’ve stolen him from me.”

 

Will stutters helplessly, and then Alana bursts into a bright grin and slaps him playfully on the arm. “I’m kidding, Will!” She gives him a little squeeze. “You must be so proud of him. I should really relinquish my title of student advisor, he spends so many office hours with you.”

 

“Yeah.” Will rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “we work really hard.”

 

He doesn’t add  _ and we’re fucking so hard I almost sprained my dick on Sunday night. _

 

“And after all the medical issues he’s had this semester,” Alana continues blithely, “it must be such a relief that his grades didn’t suffer.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, absolutely.” Will says. “He mentioned something about that. I just hope the new suppressants are working for him.”

 

Alana frowns. “What new suppressants?”

 

Will’s blood turns to ice in his veins.

 

“The - I thought he said - he said that he had to switch brands?”

 

“Oh no,” Alana says patiently, “No, he stopped taking his suppressants because they were giving him migraines. He’s been free of them for, oh, months now.”

 

A cold anger winds tight in Will’s chest, and he keeps his voice very measured and calm.

 

“Oh, I see,” he says, “well, we don’t talk a lot about personal medical stuff. You know Hannibal.”

 

“Not as well as you!” Alana jokes, giving his arm another fond squeeze. Will forces out a smile.

 

“Right,” he says. “Hey, it was really great to see you Alana. We should get lunch soon.”

 

“That would be lovely! How about--”

  
  
“But I really have to be going,” he interrupts. “I’m so sorry.”

 

And then he’s off like a racehorse down the hall, fury winding through his limbs as he climbs into his car and drives straight to Hannibal’s house.

 

Hannibal greets him at the door with a wide smile. He wipes it from his face instantly when he sees Will’s thunderous expression.

 

“You lied to me.”

 

Hannibal purses his mouth in a thin line. "I see you spoke with Alana."

 

Will stands motionless on the front step and gives a curt nod of his head.

 

“Well,” Hannibal says, “it would appear that there are some things we should discuss.”

 

He stands back in the doorway and gestures for Will to enter.

 

"Why don’t you come inside. Dinner is ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _GDI, Hannibal, what are you doing?!_
> 
>  
> 
> The final installment will be posted Monday!
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT 6/12: There will be two (final) chapters posted on Monday, since these boys won't be quiet. I removed the chapter titles to avoid even a hint of spoilers for y'all.**
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful response so far - exploring this kink has been a delight and I'm glad to see folks enjoying it (especially folks for whom A/B/O isn't normally a thing)! I feed upon your comments like air and love every one of you!


	4. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stares angrily across the table. He stabs another artfully sculpted cherry tomato onto his fork and bites it in half. Hannibal looks away.
> 
> “When I met you, I was drawn to you instantly.” Hannibal busies himself with cutting a tidy piece of meat as he speaks. “But I assumed you were an omega. When you stopped taking your alpha suppressants and I scented you, I knew what I had to do.”

They eat in stony silence. Hannibal was right, he can indeed cook everything - and exceptionally so, but right now everything tastes like ash on Will’s tongue. He takes a long sip from his wine glass and sets it down with a firm click.

 

“Are we going to speak at all?” Hannibal finally asks.

 

Will stares angrily across the table. He stabs another artfully sculpted cherry tomato onto his fork and bites it in half. Hannibal looks away.

 

“When I met you, I was drawn to you instantly.” Hannibal busies himself with cutting a tidy piece of meat as he speaks. “But I assumed you were an omega. When you stopped taking your alpha suppressants and I scented you, I knew what I had to do.”

 

Will snorts derisively around his mouthful.

 

“I stopped taking my heat suppressants to prepare myself for you. You may not agree with how I presented the information, but I never lied.”

 

Will tosses his fork to the table. “Bullshit. You told me you were adjusting to a new prescription.”

 

“No, I said I had been _given_ a new prescription. That was true. I just never filled it.”

 

“Christ, Hannibal, that’s still a lie. You made me believe you had a serious medical condition. Everything between us started because you manipulated me into thinking you weren’t in control of your actions, but you were, you were in control the whole fucking time. This entire relationship, you orchestrated all of it. Were any of my decisions my own?”

 

“All of them.”

 

Will rolls his eyes. “Except for the ones you made for me.”

 

Hannibal sets his cutlery down and leans back in his chair. "I'm not going to apologize. We both kept our secrets."

 

"I haven't kept any secrets from you."

 

"But you haven't been honest.” Hannibal narrows his eyes. “How many times did you ask me how I was adjusting to my new suppressants? You had plenty of opportunities, but you didn't ask because you didn't want to know. You didn't _want_ me to be on suppressants. You wanted me supple and lush and fully in bloom for you. And I made myself that, _for you_."

 

Will bites the inside of his cheek, beyond angry that Hannibal is fucking right. Hannibal, for his part, just regards him coolly.

 

"We have both gone against our natures to be together. You relinquished your ethics, I relinquished my control. Do you regret it?"

 

“That’s the problem,” Will replies, rubbing a hand across his face. “I don’t _know_ if I regret it, because I don’t know who the fuck you even are.”

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

Hannibal dabs his mouth with his napkin and stands from the table. He walks around to Will’s chair and kneels beside him.

 

“Look at me,” Hannibal says. “Scent me. Then tell me you don’t know who I am.”

 

Hannibal tilts his chin to one side, opening up his throat. His scent hangs rich in the air and Will closes his eyes, leaning in to nose at his pulse. Hannibal moans softly and touches Will’s knee with just the tips of his fingers.

 

"You wouldn't have told Alana if you didn't want me to find out,” Will says, his mouth fluterring delicately over Hannibal’s skin. “Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

 

Hannibal’s hand flexes over Will’s knee and he squeezes down. "I wanted to see what you would do."

 

Will withdraws with a violent flinch. "Jesus, Hannibal, I'm not your science experiment, I'm your --"

 

He stops himself from saying ‘mate’ and throws his napkin to the floor, shoving his chair back and taking two long strides away from the dining table, away from Hannibal.

 

Hannibal looks him up and down.

 

“We’re not bonded yet.”

 

Will frowns at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

"It means you have the option to walk away."

 

The thought makes Will sick to his stomach, but he swallows the bile in his throat.

 

“Would you even let me?”

 

Hannibal nods. “If you, in turn, let me. Considering the fact that since I’m no longer on suppressants, I will need to find myself another alpha.”

 

Will snarls on instinct. The very idea makes him see red. "I will tear the throat out of anyone who touches you."

 

Hannibal steps towards him. “Then you’ll stay?”

 

“I..” Will voice cracks. “I _can’t_ stay, Hannibal. I don’t even know if _this_ ,” he gestures a hand between the two of them, “is real.”

 

Hannibal’s face falls. “Of course this is real, Will. My actions don’t change that.”

 

“Your actions change everything.”

 

Hannibal gives him this pining look that makes Will feels like he’s the centre of Hannibal’s known universe and it hurts, it _hurts_ him all the way to his bones. He turns his face away, knowing if he doesn’t break free now he never will.

 

“I have to go,” Will says. “I need time.”

 

The silence between them stretches for an age, distant and cold. When Hannibal speaks again, his tone is removed, like he’s speaking from someone else’s body.

 

“You don’t need time, Will. You’ve made your choice, so make it.”

 

The ultimatum shocks him, Will can feel himself reverberate with the force of it, but his righteous indignation wins out and he turns back to Hannibal with fire in his eyes.

 

“Fine,” he grits out, a small part of him hoping that Hannibal will then fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.

 

But he doesn’t. Hannibal doesn’t even look sad anymore, he doesn’t look _anything_. He stands before Will, impassive and unreadable. He looks exactly like the student who walked into Will’s class months ago, before any of this began, before he had hooked his claws into Will’s heart. The Hannibal that Will Graham loves has disappeared. Or perhaps, Will realizes with dismay, he never existed at all.

 

“Goodbye, Professor Graham.”

 

Hannibal reaches out a cordial hand. Will takes it up, trying to ignore the warmth of Hannibal’s skin, the frustrating calmness of his pulse.

 

Then he drops it, and everything is cold. Will turns to the door.

 

He doesn’t say goodbye.

 

-x-

 

Will drinks himself into a stupor that night, and the night after next. He recoils against the sunlight each morning, head pounding as he downs some aspirin and sullenly hopes it will strike out some of the pain in his chest. It never does.

 

Hannibal cancels their weekly appointments through a terse e-mail, explaining that he feels it more appropriate to be meeting with his actual student advisor to discuss his academic future. Will has lunch with Alana the following week and tries to smile and nod when she tells him how well he’s doing.

 

He goes through the motions of teaching, knowing that his eyes look a little more sunken than usual, his face more pallid. It doesn’t help that Hannibal continues to haunt his classroom. Will waits with fear in the pit of his stomach for the day that Hannibal’s heat comes back around and he’ll need to excuse himself from class.

 

Halfway through Thursday morning’s class - three weeks to the day after their beautiful, perfect weekend together, Hannibal touches a finger to his mouth. Will’s heart soars and shatters in the same moment. His eyes flick to Hannibal’s then away, and he nods just once, hoping Hannibal will make a quick exit and he can pretend he was never there.

 

Hannibal doesn’t move.

 

Their eyes meet fully and Will nods again with a little quirk of his eyebrow.

 

Very slowly, Hannibal shakes his head.

 

A veil falls over Will’s vision, and suddenly everything in the room blurs except for Hannibal. His eyes are black dwarf stars, blotting out the light everywhere but around him.

 

“Professor Graham, I have a question?”

 

Will jolts from his trance and looks up at his most tiresome student.

 

“Yes, Mason?”

 

“I was wondering if you were planning on eye-fucking the entire class, or just Hannibal Lecter.”

 

The whole room gasps in shock. Except for Hannibal, who looks positively murderous.

 

“Mr. Verger,” Will snaps, “get the fuck out of my class.”

 

Mason opens his mouth in protest and Will raises a swift hand to cut him off.

 

“Mason, get the fuck out of my class and don't come back unless you bring a different mouth with you. Now, where was I?”

 

“Cognitive behavioural therapy,” Hannibal says, smiling with his eyes. His finger is almost inside his mouth.

 

Will nods and looks decisively in another direction, ignoring Mason as he exits as noisily as possible. The door slams and Will continues on.

 

Class finishes and the students peter out, one girl lingering after to commend Will for his dressing-down of the most hated student in class. Will just shrugs, his periphery trained on the student still sitting in the front row.

 

When she finally drags herself away, Will turns to face him.

 

“Take your finger out your mouth.”

 

Slowly, Hannibal withdraws his finger, pushing his lip out of shape as he drags it downward, his eyes fixed on Will’s. When his lip releases, he lets his hand fall carelessly to the side. Will takes a step closer and scents the air around him.

 

“You’re not in heat, are you?”

 

Hannibal shakes his head.

 

“Get up.”

 

Will is vibrating now with the force of his rage, and more than a little lust. Hannibal stands but makes no further movement.

 

“Come here.”

 

Hannibal smirks and stalks toward him.

 

"Goddamnit, wipe that smirk off your face. Do you think I’m made of stone? You think I didn't see you touch your mouth the entire fucking class? It's obscene, Hannibal."

 

Hannibal's smile is lush, stretching lazy and catlike across those obscene lips.

 

"Perhaps you should punish me, then."

 

The words spill out and go straight to Will’s dick. He swallows around his suddenly too-big tongue. Everything is wrapped in honey and gold and Will can't seem to breathe. Hannibal is barely inches in front of him. His eyes are bright and dangerous, entirely fond and wholly unfathomable. The air fills with peachfire scent and all Will can think is _Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal_.

 

He is kissing him before he realizes he’s doing it. They both sink into each other, limbs clutching, tongues seeking, fierce then gentle then fierce again. Will’s hears his name between kisses, a desperate curse and beg all at once.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Hannibal whispers.

 

Will just clutches him, moaning as Hannibal widens his stance and pulls Will’s hand down to feel the swelling thickness between his thighs.

 

“I haven’t touched myself since you left.”

 

“Jesus.” Will drops his chin and presses their foreheads together. “Can you - comfortably I mean - if you’re not in--”

 

Hannibal bites his earlobe. "That's what inorganic lubricant is for. You could use it to fuck me as easily as I could to fuck you."

 

Will flushes with warmth, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

 

"Oh," Hannibal says slyly, "is that something you'd be interested in?"

 

"Uh - um," Will stutters, "I haven't --"

 

"Nor have I. I would love to be the first person to take you. And the last."

 

Then he pulls a small bottle from his pocket and Will grows instantly cold.

 

 _He planned this. He fucking planned it_ _like he plans everything._

 

Will tears himself away and gives Hannibal a rough shove. “No.”

 

Hannibal stands two feet from him, panting.

 

“You’re not manipulating me again, Hannibal.” He points to the door. “Get out of my classroom.”

 

“Will,” Hannibal starts, “you’re --”

 

“ _Out, Hannibal!_ ” Will roars, his tone entirely alpha. Hannibal shrinks automatically, his eyes wide and fearful.

 

Then he gathers back to himself, the fear retreating from his eyes and replaced with regret.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

He takes up his bag and leaves the room without looking back.

 

-x-

 

Mason stops coming to class and files a nasty report against him for misconduct. It’s thrown out almost instantly by the testimony of his sister, who graduated at the top of her class despite his best efforts to discredit her, and Mr. Verger is summarily expelled soon after for misconduct of his own. Will is invited out for drinks by some of the faculty to celebrate the death knell of the demon student, but the smile he paints for them feels like a rictus grin. Their victory is but a small comfort sitting shriveled in the dried-out well of Will’s cheer, a paltry attempt at rejoicing when he can barely even see colour anymore.

 

Weeks pass. Hannibal disengages almost entirely, avoiding Will in the brief moments they pass in the hallway, communicating his necessaries entirely through Alana Bloom, citing a hand-wavy ‘conflict of interest’. Will starts to wonder if perhaps he made entirely the wrong choice. After all, he reasons, Hannibal’s entire orchestrations were because he wanted to be with him. How many other people in Will’s life could make such a claim? And certainly, Will had never been happier than those fleeting three days they had spent together.

 

But, he argues with himself, can he truly trust a man who is content to build the foundations of a relationship on a lie?

 

Still, he counters, does it mattter?

 

He is on the cusp of making his decision when the e-mail comes.

 

_Professor Graham,_

 

_I will not be in attendance for class this week. A medical emergency has required I check into a heat clinic until I am seen fit to be discharged._

 

_Please send any of my coursework to this e-mail, or leave with Dr. Alana Bloom._

 

_Thank you for your cooperation._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Hannibal Lecter_

 

Will closes his laptop, his mouth gone bone dry. A fucking heat clinic. No indication as to where, or how long, just ‘until he is fit to be discharged’. Will has never set foot in a clinic himself, but he’s heard stories of their ‘efficiency’, which generally goes hand in hand with their complete lack of care for the omegas they treat. A thick wave of nausea rolls through Will’s stomach at the thought of Hannibal, locked up in some white, antiseptic room with no one there to tend him the way he needs.

 

Then he remembers the vacant look in Hannibal’s eyes when he experienced heat delirium, and he hightails it down the hall in search for Alana Bloom.

 

He finds her in her office, and she greets him with a sweet smile.

 

“Will!” She gestures for him to take a seat. “What’s up?”

 

Will sits heavily in the seat opposite hers, a cold sweat popping up along his brow.

 

“Can you tell me which heat clinic Hannibal Lecter checked in to?”

 

Alana squints at him, confused. “Why would you need to know that?”

 

“Can you _tell me_?!” He smacks a hand on the table for emphasis and then immediately regrets it, withdrawing as he sees the fear in Alana’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.” Alana laughs nervously. “Sometimes I forget you’re an alpha.”

 

The pieces click together in her head instantly and she looks up at Will, her eyes soft.

 

“Oh, Will…”

 

Will props his elbows on her desk, buries his face in his hands, and groans. “What have I fucking done?”

 

Alana slides a small hand towards him and rubs his arm. “It’s okay, Will.” She gives him a little pull, encouraging him to look at her. “If you’re expecting judgment for engaging in relations with a student, you’re certainly not going to get it from me.”

 

Will laughs tersely. “Yeah, at least you waited until Margot graduated.”

 

Alana just cocks an eyebrow at him, the ghost of a smirk on her face. “Did I?”

 

She pats Will’s arm and turns to her computer, scanning through her e-mails with her tongue peeking between her teeth. Will eyes her with newfound respect.

 

“Look at you, Dr. Bloom. You little rulebreaker.”

 

“The things we do for love,” she replies, then writes an address down on a Post-It and slides it toward Will.

 

“We never had this conversation,” Alana says, and gives him a big wink.

 

Will practically leaps across her desk and grabs her face between his hands, giving her an exaggerated smacking kiss on the cheek. Alana giggles and bats him away.

 

“Thank you, Alana,” Will says earnestly. “Thank you so much.”

 

“You’re welcome. Now get going. You’ve got a 50-mile drive ahead of you there.”

 

Will looks down at the address and wrinkles his nose in dismay. “Fucking Hannibal.”

 

“Clearly you should be.” Alana stands and points to the door.

“Go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter was growing too long, so I split it in two. Chapter 5 is being edited and will be posted this evening!
> 
> Thanks _again_ for all your lovely support with this experiment. Your comments bring me great joy!


	5. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying about their status on a medical form isn't the worst thing to do, but it's definitely something that could come back to haunt him if it's ever investigated. Unless he bonds with Hannibal after this. Of course, if he does bond with Hannibal and it becomes public knowledge before Hannibal graduates, he could lose his job and ruin both their reputations.
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> On the other hand, he drove 50 miles to get here and he's not fucking leaving without his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains a brief amount of what could be construed as dubcon. In my omegaverse, heat clinics are just that, clinics, which means that everything is handled with detached medical efficiency. Hannibal voluntarily checked himself in, so he is aware of what the treatments are. Please just bear that in mind when you proceed. It's early on in the chapter and (hopefully) quickly dealt with, but I want my readers to be aware of any possible triggers.**
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> That said, there's a happy ending to be found here, and I hope you enjoy it!

"Can you tell me where Hannibal Lecter is?"

 

The doe-eyed beta girl behind the clinic counter looks up at him in confusion.

 

"I'm sorry, sir?"

 

Will takes a gulp of breath, still slightly winded from his sprint through the parking lot.

 

"Hannibal Lecter. I was told that he checked in here. I'd like to check him out."

 

The girl fidgets warily in her seat. "Um, okay. You'll need to fill out this paperwork."

 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, smiling with empty politeness. Will grabs it from her and begins filling everything out in rapid chicken-scratch.

 

"You can take a seat if you--"

 

"I'm fine." Will says tersely, then looks back up at her with an apologetic wrinkle of his nose. "Sorry, it's been a hell of a day."

 

Under 'relation to patient', Will falters. The options are 'parent/guardian', 'primary physician' or 'bonded alpha'.

 

Lying about their status on a medical form isn't the worst thing to do, but it's definitely something that could come back to haunt him if it's ever investigated. Unless he bonds with Hannibal after this. Of course, if he does bond with Hannibal and it becomes public knowledge before Hannibal graduates, he could lose his job and ruin both their reputations.

 

On the other hand, he drove 50 miles to get here and he's not fucking leaving without his mate.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, he checks 'bonded alpha' and hands the form back to the girl. She scans it quickly.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Graham. I'll just need a form of identification, please."

 

Will grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and slides his driver's license across the table. The young girl takes it and starts typing into her computer, then she stops with a frown. Will grips the counter and forces himself to breathe.

 

"Is there a problem?"

 

The girl looks up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, you're not listed on Mr. Lecter's intake form as his bonded alpha."

 

Will goes pale. _Shit_.

 

"Are - are you sure?"

 

She checks back at her computer screen and nods without looking up. "Yes, sir."

 

Of course. Of course Hannibal Lecter wouldn't make anything remotely fucking easy for him.

 

Sighing, Will leans over the counter and drops his voice to a whisper.

 

"Look," he flicks his eyes to her name tag, "Abigail. Can I tell you something?" He looks to the left and right as though he's about to impart a big secret. Curiosity piqued, she leans in toward him.

 

"We haven't actually bonded yet. We were about to, and then I had to go to this stupid conference, and his heat came early. I called and told him to wait for me, but I guess he didn't get the message in time. And the thing about my Hannibal is, he doesn't lie. So of course he couldn't put my name down as his alpha - even though I am his, in every way."

 

Will does his best to look pitifully lovesick, which unfortunately isn't that difficult. Abigail makes a quiet 'aww' sound.

 

"I think maybe he thought I wasn't going to bond with him after all, but --" Will takes a chance and lays his hand over the back of Abigail's imploringly. "I couldn't imagine being bonded with anyone else. And I'd really like to tell him that, alone, just the two of us. But I need to take him home so I can do that."

 

Abigail's eyes shine with the romance of it all. She looks like she might cry.

 

"So, Abigail, do you think maybe you could check his intake form again? Because I really think my name is on it."

 

Abigail blinks wetly at him, spellbound for a moment. Then she turns back to her computer and starts typing.

 

"Let me just check again." She looks up at him with a grin. "You're right, your name is on his form. I'm so sorry I missed it."

 

"Abigail," Will says, "you're an angel."

 

She blushes and hands him another form. "Just sign here, please."

 

Will signs with a flourish, almost sagging with relief.

 

Abigail hands him his copy of Hannibal's release and hits a button, gesturing for Will to come through the door next to the reception desk that leads in to the clinic. She meets him on the other side of the counter.

 

"He's in room 103. Down that hall and first on the right." She looks at him almost shyly. "I can escort you there, if you'd like?"

 

Will smiles and touches her hand. "I can take it from here. Thanks again. I owe you one."

 

Walking down the hall, Will can smell the trace of half a dozen heats. Somewhere in there he can sense Hannibal's, but the stinging antiseptic tang of the clinic overpowers almost everything else. His palms begin to sweat and he rubs them on the outside of his jeans as he turns the corner to room 103. There's a simple metal plaque on the front that reads 'Treating Room', Hannibal's medical chart in a small caddy next to it.

 

Will wasn't entirely sure what he thought he would see when he opened the door, but when he opens it the sight that greets him is nothing he could have prepared for.

 

Hannibal, his Hannibal, strapped to a hospital bed, wrists bound in cuffs at his sides, legs spread open and held securely in stirrups. He's wearing a thin paper gown, sweaty hair matted to his forehead, and his eyes are wide open but completely unseeing. He lolls his head from side to side, a faint trickle of drool at the corner of his mouth.

 

This sight of his mate in full delirium is enough to rend Will's heart in two, but the sight between Hannibal's legs makes his blood boil.

 

A beta nurse, clad in surgical mask and latex gloves, stands impassionately holding a huge knotting dildo while Hannibal fucks himself on it. Hannibal is receiving no pleasure, the knot is clearly too wide for him to take, but in his fever he works himself upon it anyway. The nurse gives the toy an awkward shove and Hannibal jolts.

 

"Stop it, you're hurting him!"

 

The nurse looks up, letting go of the dildo in surprise. It slides out of Hannibal and falls to the floor with a wet smack. "You're not supposed to be in here, sir."

 

"I'm his alpha." He snatches Hannibal's release form from his pocket and waves it furiously in the air. "I'm absolutely supposed to be in here." He's on the nurse in two seconds, fisting his hands in the front of his scrubs, the paper crumpling in his hands. "What the fuck were you doing to him?"

 

"It's standard procedure," the nurse gabbles, pointing uselessly toward Hannibal, "he's in heat!"

 

"He's in fucking delirium, you asshole."

 

Hannibal moans at the loss of being filled, sightless eyes seeking relief from something, anything. Will drops the nurse unceremoniously to the floor and runs to Hannibal's side, releasing a wrist from the restraints and bringing Hannibal’s fingers to his lips.

 

"Hannibal," he murmurs, "hey, hey, I'm here."

 

Hannibal blinks once but his eyes don't clear. He makes a sad, wailing sound. Will makes dagger eyes at the nurse.

 

"Help me get him out of this," Will snaps.

 

"Can-can I see your release form?"

 

Will throws the now crumpled-up paperwork at the nurse, who unballs it and gives it a nervous once-over. He hands the form back to Will with shaking fingers, and Will snatches it back and wads it into his pocket.

 

Hannibal is making a constant keening sound, his hips helplessly bucking up into nothing. Will tries to soothe him, holding his wrist close to Hannibal's nose.

 

"Breathe, baby," he urges, "it's me."

 

The air is too clogged with the chemical smell of the clinic, rendering Will's efforts useless. Hannibal grabs at Will's wrist and tries to shove it between his legs, and Will pulls away.

 

"No, no, love, not here. We've got to get you home."

 

The nurse undoes the final restraint on Hannibal's ankle and steps away.

 

"He's, uh, all yours, sir."

 

"Thanks," Will says flatly. He gives the nurse another death glare for good measure as he slides an arm underneath Hannibal's shoulders and helps him up. Hannibal's knees almost instantly buckle under him, and Will sweeps him up in his arms with a grunt.

 

"Christ, you're heavy." Hannibal just nuzzles his neck and squirms against him. Will can feel the slick pooling on his arm and he looks at the nurse. "Do you have a blanket or something you can cover him with?"

 

The nurse fidgets around the room, rummaging through a cabinet before he pulls out a plain plastic bag.

 

"These are the clothes he came in with."

 

He holds the bag out to Will, who just stares back around his arms full of Hannibal. The nurse stands gawping for a moment, then he pulls out one of Hannibal's shirts and drapes it over him, hooking the rest of the bag over Will's fingers.

 

Will gives him a terse nod. "Can you get the door?"

 

The nurse scrambles towards the door and holds it open.

 

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I was just trying to help him."

 

Will sighs heavily and gathers Hannibal close.

 

"It's okay, uh--"

 

"Franklyn."

 

"Franklyn. I get it, you were just doing your job." Will crowds him close against the door. "But if you ever touch my mate again I will snap your fucking neck. Do you understand?"

 

Franklyn nods mutely, terrified.

 

"Good. Now help me get the fuck out of here."

 

-x-

 

The drive home is nigh unbearable. Buckling Hannibal securely into his seat doesn't stop him from pawing at Will, his vision still fever-clouded. It scares Will far too much to arouse him in the slightest, and he dislodges Hannibal's attempts to yank at his various limbs as he tries not to let the man run them both off the road.

 

He drives Hannibal to his house and helps him to the door, having fished his keys from the trousers sitting crumpled in the plastic bag. They make their way up the stairs, Hannibal clawing at Will's shirt and belt as he trips over his feet. Will drags Hannibal to his bedroom, kneeling beside him, watching helplessly as he rips off the remainder of his hospital gown and writhes against the sheets.

 

"Alpha." Hannibal reaches for him, crawling to the side of the bed. Will takes Hannibal by the shoulders and forces his face into his neck.

 

"Come on," Will says desperately, "come back to me."

 

Hannibal breathes him in, his pulse still rabbit-quick. He twitches once and pulls away, nostrils flaring.

 

"Alpha," he says again. His eyes are still blind with delirium. Will dodges as Hannibal dives for him, landing them both on the floor, Hannibal straddled atop him. His slick seeps out, soaking Will's trousers. Hannibal lunges again, aiming sloppy kisses all over his face, and Will struggles to push him back. Hannibal just makes hungry, needy sounds atop him, humping Will through his clothes.

 

"Hannibal," Will says sternly. He doesn't listen, He puffs up his chest and fills his voice with pure alpha command. " _Stop_."

 

Hannibal goes completely still and whimpers.

 

"Get back on the bed," Will orders him, and Hannibal clambers meekly atop the covers. He rolls on his side, shivering with fever.

 

Will climbs beside him, rubbing his back with calming strokes.

 

"I'm not going to fuck you," he says gently. The words somehow translate to Hannibal's ears and he makes a despairing cry.

 

"Baby, I can't. Not like this. Don't you have... something?"

 

Hannibal just quakes under his hand, emitting a low sound of distress from his throat.

 

"I know, I know it hurts," Will soothes, "I want to help you, just..."

 

He jumps from the bed and crouches low, checking underneath it for any hidden boxes where Hannibal might keep emergency assistance. Nothing. He checks the ottoman at the foot of the bed, then each bedside table. Relief comes when he opens Hannibal's bedside drawer and he spies a sleek black box. He opens it up, revealing an onyx tapered knotting dildo. _Leave it to Hannibal to not do anything by halves_ , Will thinks. It's substantial, about Will's size, but certainly not the behemoth that had been stuffed uncomfortably into Hannibal's body back at the clinic.

 

He takes it out of the box and rolls Hannibal onto his back, sliding an arm under his head.

 

"This will have to do, okay?"

 

Hannibal blinks, staring into space, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Will takes one of his hands and wraps it around the toy, hoping he understands. Hannibal moans quietly when he feels it under his fingers.

 

"P-please." His voice is hoarse from crying out, and Will strokes his hair back from his face, kissing his forehead. He covers Hannibal's hand with his and guides the dildo between his legs. Together, they slide it inside him.

 

Hannibal wails in instant relief. His hand seizes then drops boneless to his side, leaving Will to single-handedly guide the dildo further in. He does just that, gentling and shushing Hannibal as he pants and squirms. Once he feels Hannibal flex around the toy he begins pumping it in a slow, easy rhythm. It doesn't take long before Hannibal's breath draws tight in his chest and his eyelids start to flicker rapidly.

 

"Knot," he rasps, and Will obliges, pushing the bulbous knot all the way inside his hole, watching rapt as it pops past his rim and lodges snugly inside him.

 

It's the curse of biology that Will is aroused too now, but he can't help it. The whiskey-peach aroma of Hannibal's slick hanging heavy in the air coupled with the high-pitched omegan cries he makes are all designed to stoke a fever within himself. Teeth gritted, he ignores it, focusing entirely on Hannibal and guiding him to his release.

 

Hannibal bucks and twists his hips, grasping for purchase in the sheets below him. His head is thrown back displaying the lovely column of his throat, his lips red and swollen from having bitten on them for hours. Will stares at him, focusing now on his face as he moves the toy inside him, letting Hannibal ride it, hoping that somewhere in Hannibal's mind he knows that Will is there. He swipes his thumb through the sweat gathered on Hannibal's brow and smoothes out his frown, his chest constricting as his mate turns instinctively into his touch with a sweet fractured moan.

 

"You're so beautiful,” Will murmurs. He doesn't mean to say it, not out loud at least, but the words unlock something within Hannibal and he rolls his head to the side, his eyes for one moment blissfully clear.

 

" _Will_ ," he says with fragile awe, and then he is coming, a deluge of slick flowing over Will's wrist and hand, ropes of cum spraying from his cock. Hannibal bows up, mouth parted, and Will bends to kiss him, wet and hungry and tasting like home.

 

Then Hannibal drops back to the bed, chest heaving and shining with sweat. His eyes drift closed and he falls still.

 

Seconds later, they snap back open, newly fogged with lust, lost to Will entirely, and he clenches around the toy still locked inside him.

 

" _Again_."

 

-x-

 

Will stays by Hannibal's side, fucking him through three more orgasms until he finally collapses and passes out. He removes the toy gently, careful with his reddened tender hole, and washes it clean in Hannibal's bathroom. He rummages through the cupboards and finds a cloth, wetting it under the faucet and bringing it back to the bedroom to wipe Hannibal clean. He's seized with the vision of doing this very thing in his own home what seems like so very long ago, and his heart floods with tenderness at the memory.

 

Hannibal doesn't stir at all under his touch, completely blissed out to the point of absolute exhaustion. His chest rises and falls softly with his breath, and in his slumber he looks almost angelic. Will lies beside him and watches him sleep, letting the painful throb between his own thighs retreat to a dull ache.

 

He thinks of all that has happened in the past months, thinks of what could have been done differently, how Hannibal could have secured his heart in a more decent fashion, how they might have avoided the chaos that followed. Then he looks at the face of the sleeping man beside him, and realizes he no longer cares. Will loves Hannibal, for all that he is, and there's nothing he can do about it, even if he wanted to.

 

As if hearing the thought, Hannibal turns in his sleep and snuggles close to Will, stretching an arm across his torso. Will smiles quietly to himself, stroking Hannibal's hair. When Hannibal makes a sleepy contented murmur into his chest, Will makes a silent promise to them both that he will never let him go again.

 

-x-

 

Hannibal wakes later that evening, blinking up at Will, sleepy-eyed and beautiful.

 

“Will.” He looks impossibly happy. “I thought I dreamed you.”

 

“I’m here,” Will soothes him, kissing his forehead. “I found you.”

 

Hannibal shifts a little under the blankets, wincing.

 

“Are you all right?” Will asks. “At the clinic, they weren’t -- they weren’t very considerate of your needs.”

 

“That much I can tell,” Hannibal replies. He shifts again until he is laying on his side, facing Will. “But you were.”

 

He reaches one curled hand and strokes Will’s face with the backs of his fingers. “My Will. You always take care of me.”

 

“Well,” Will says, “in a manner of speaking.”

 

Hannibal quirks his brow and Will motions to the bedside drawer with sheepish half-smile. “I washed it before I put it back.”

 

Hannibal rolls back into the sheets and covers his face with his hands. “You fucked me with my dildo.”

 

“You were in full delirium. I wasn’t going to take advantage of you.” Hannibal has started curling in on himself in embarrassment and Will tugs at his knees, looming over his covered face.

 

“Besides,” Will adds, “I wanted our first time back together to be something we _both_ remembered.”

 

Hannibal peeks out at Will from between his fingers and lets Will peel back a hand.

 

“You mean --”

 

Will nods. “I mean.”

 

Hannibal’s arms spring around his neck and he pulls Will crushingly close, making a broken sound of joy. Will squeezes him back and breathes him in, blinking away his tears as Hannibal utters his name over and over in abject relief. When Hannibal releases him, they kiss, just once. A quiet, tender thing, planting the tiny seed of second chance and letting it grow. They break apart slowly with a little nuzzle, and Hannibal rests his palm on Will’s chest. He takes a quavering breath and looks deep into his eyes.

 

“I really thought I'd lost you.”

 

“Nah,” Will scoffs, “you're gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me.” He stops and gives Hannibal a serious look. “Please don't try harder than that.”

 

“Never,” Hannibal vows, equally serious.

 

He cards his fingers through Will's hair and they begin kissing, which quickly turns into more-than-kissing until the room grows heated and Hannibal pulls away gasping.

 

“Will you bond with me?” Hannibal asks. “Not because I'm asking, but…. because you want to?”

 

Will runs a thumb over his cheekbone. “Tell me what _you_ want, Hannibal. And just be honest.”

 

Hannibal’s voice shakes as he speaks. “I want you, Will. I’ve wanted you since I first scented you, and I would have done anything to make you mine. I did whatever I could to make that happen.” He swallows hard, frightened by his own honesty. “Now, I find that all I want is for you to want me in return.”

 

Pulling him down for another kiss, Will smiles. “You know that I do.  And you know I’ll bond with you. But I have one condition.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“I want you to bite me as well.”

 

Hannibal’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline in surprise. “That’s… Will, that’s not how things are done.”

 

“Since when do either of us give a shit about how things are done? We’re not made like others, why should we act like them.” He picks up Hannibal’s hand, kisses his knuckles. “We bond, we bond _together_. As equals.”

 

Hannibal bows his head, his voice thick with emotion.

 

“I would be honored.”

 

Will smiles. “So would I.”

 

Hannibal grins in delight, rolling atop Will and stretching his arms over his head. He ducks down to nuzzle into his armpit, inhaling deeply and moaning on the exhale.

 

“Do I still smell like the sea?” Will asks.

 

Hannibal rubs his cheek into a fluffy tuft of hair. “Like the sea. Like the clean salt-air above it.” He shifts over to Will’s other armpit and inhales once more.

 

“Like home,” Hannibal says into his skin, “you’ve always smelled like home.”

 

Will slides his hands into Hannibal’s hair and pulls him up for a kiss, licking into his mouth and running his tongue over that wonderfully sharp tooth. Hannibal half-melts into it before he withdraws, shaking his head. The air is suffused with the scent of his heat and Will can feel the slick smearing over his thighs, maddeningly close to his stiffening cock. He reaches between Hannibal’s legs but Hannibal grabs his wrist and pins it back over his head.

 

“You’ve taken care of me plenty,” Hannibal tells him, “let me take care of you.”

 

Will thumps his head back against the pillows and lets out a breathy sigh as Hannibal bends to nose at his jugular. He takes a deep, rich breath, then turns Will’s head to the side and skirts his nose up behind his ear, scenting him again. He repeats this pattern on Will’s right, then begins to slink down his body, scenting at the bend of each elbow, the inside of each wrist. He skips over Will’s groin and sniffs at him all the way down to his feet, letting his mouth dance tantalizingly over patches of skin as he goes, but never with quite enough contact to leave Will satisfied.

 

By the time Hannibal makes his return journey toward his cock, Will’s heart is slamming inside his ribcage. He watches with bated breath as Hannibal sinks his face into Will’s inner thigh, scenting him with a long groan of delight. He noses underneath Will’s balls and lets out a particularly extravagant sigh, his hands creeping up to squeeze at Will’s hips and dip his thumbs into his iliac crest.

 

“Hannibal.” Will is near beside himself. “Please…”

 

With a throaty chuckle, he takes Will’s balls into his mouth and gives them a wet suck. Will jerks under Hannibal’s hands, his mouth gone slack in a needy whimper. Hannibal rolls them under his tongue, humming happily, and the vibrations travel straight up Will’s dick, which bounces impatiently against his stomach. After a few more sucks, Hannibal pulls off but doesn’t quite remove his tongue, keeping it pointed as he drags it up the seam of Will’s balls and continues directly upward, licking one unbroken line straight to the tip of his cock.

 

He stops there, his tongue pointed and dipped into the head of Will’s cock as fluid gathers there. He waits for Will to meet his eyes, then in one liquid motion he takes Will into his mouth, all the way to the hilt.

 

Will cries out, nearly convulsing into the gorgeous heat of Hannibal’s mouth. He massages his tongue in rolling waves against Will’s cock, letting him him hit the back of his throat and swallowing tight around him. Hannibal is sucking him so expertly that Will’s pretty sure he must have a PhD in fellatio. It’s pure ecstasy, and were this any other occasion Will might let him go on forever. But Will has watched Hannibal come four times around a fake cock today, and he’s determined that the next time he comes it will be around Will’s very real cock, with Will’s very real cum shooting hot and thick inside him.

 

“Hannibal,” he moans, grabbing at his hair and shoulders, “I need to be inside you.”

 

Hannibal doesn’t acquiesce right away, instead moving his mouth up Will’s dick and tracing his tongue in concentric circles around the head, suckling at the tip. When he pulls off, he lets a fat string of saliva trail betwen his lips and Will’s cock, looking up at him with his whiskey-dark eyes.

 

Will whimpers again. “Fucking… get your ass up here. Now.”

 

Slowly, Hannibal crawls back up Will’s body, stopping to bite his hipbone and to tease each nipple between his teeth. By the time he reaches Will’s mouth again, Will has sunk fierce hands into his hair and pulled them roughly together, kissing him with raw hunger. Hannibal sucks on his tongue and rakes his teeth over Will’s bottom lip, one hand trailing back down between them to fist Will’s leaking cock.

 

“It’s only ever been you,” Hannibal says into his mouth, “it will always be you.”

 

And then he is sinking atop Will, coating him with slick as he engulfs his cock. Will growls and knocks one knee up, using his momentum to flip them over so he can bear down upon Hannibal, their bodies plastered tight together. Hannibal immediately locks his ankles around Will’s thighs, his hands sliding through the sweat on Will’s back to grab tight and dig fingers into his shoulder blades.

 

Will looks down into his mate’s eyes, burning with a fire that only he can stoke. He begins fucking into him in measured, steady thrusts, never breaking their gaze, just watching Hannibal as he pours everything he is feeling for him into their lovemaking.

 

Tears grow plump in Hannibal’s eyes, rolling helplessly free as he stares up at Will.

 

“You humble me,” he whispers.

 

Will just kisses him, eyes still open, and rocks into him with thrust after thrust. He can feel Hannibal’s cock smacking hard and wet against his belly, and he reaches between them to touch it. Hannibal tries to bat him away again but Will catches his wrist.

 

“No,” Will says, “let me give this to you.”

 

He slips his fingers lower and coats them in the slick that drips copiously between them, then circles his hand around Hannibal’s cock, stroking him in long, dreamy pulls. The dual sensations seem set to undo Hannibal, and he just chokes out a little sound that’s both wonder and fear, his tears now spilling freely.

 

Will can feel the tight throb as his knot begins to inflate, and he turns his eyes to Hannibal’s throat. He twists his wrist as he strokes Hannibal faster and bends to kiss him, their mouths half-mashed together in their breathlessness.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Hannibal nods mutely. Will shifts atop him, angling himself so his own throat is easily accessed. He lifts Hannibal’s hips and watches as he squeezes his knot past Hannibal’s rim. He feels Hannibal suck him in with a wet pop, and then they are locked together.

 

“You are my mate,” Will tells him.

 

“You are my mate,” Hannibal replies.

 

Then, as one, they twist their mouths away and sink their teeth into the muscle above each other’s jugular, clamping down with a force just shy of drawing blood.

 

In that instant, they both come, though their euphoria is inextricable. Hannibal's orgasm is Will's is Hannibal's is the both of them together, overloaded with sensation. Slick floods over Will’s cock as his own pulses within Hannibal, another gush of cum from Hannibal’s dick coating their stomachs. They hold fast to each other as they quake with the force of it, imprinting their bonding marks with adoring ferocity.

 

When last rolling wave passes through them, they release in tandem, meeting instantly for another kiss. They clutch and paw at each other’s faces, more ravenous for each other than ever before, their cheeks streaked with the tears of them both.

 

After they catch their breath, Will rolls them to their sides, nuzzling and licking at Hannibal’s mark. Hannibal traces his thumb over Will’s, pushing into the indents of his teeth, smiling when Will hisses at a too-hard press. Somewhere in the afterglow the word ‘love’ floats hazy and unspoken between them. They both catch at it and hold it tight to their breasts.

 

Contented silence blankets them as they lay together in the dark. Hannibal draws lazy calligraphy on Will's skin with his fingers for a while before he lifts his head, looking somewhat shamefaced.

 

“The thought occurs,” Hannibal says quietly, “I could have orchestrated all of this.” He flicks his eyes uncertainly back to Will’s. “I could have let myself go into heat, picked a clinic, informed Alana, and waited. Knowing that you would come to collect me. Knowing that you would have to lie about being my bonded alpha. Knowing that you would then feel obligated to bond with me as a result of that lie.”

 

“Yeah,” Will admits. “You could have. And you probably did. But you know what? I don’t fucking care.”

 

Hannibal tenses atop him. “What?”

 

Will cups Hannibal’s face in his hands and kisses him. His pulse races under Will’s fingers. “I. Don’t. Care.” Will punctuates each word with a kiss, then reaches to comb his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.

 

“I love you, and there’s not a thing I can do about it, so I give up.” He smiles and brushes their noses together. “I’m yours.”

 

Hannibal blinks very quickly. “Would you - would you say that again?”

 

“I’m yours.”

 

“Before that.”

 

“I give up.”

 

“ _Will_. Before that.”

 

Will grins, tousling his hair. “I love you, you shit.”

 

Hannibal rolls over and pounces on him, covering him in delighted kisses. Will laughs, cupping the back of Hannibal’s head and holding him close, then he rolls them back and pins Hannibal beneath him. They kiss for a while, drunk on each other, until Hannibal quietly pulls back, his gaze fond and perhaps a little teary once more.

 

"Is there anything else you haven't told me?" Will asks gently.

 

"Just one thing." Will goes very still as Hannibal reaches up to stroke his cheek, sifting his fingers into Will's hair and holding him there.

 

"I love you, too."

 

Will releases the breath held in his chest. He wraps his fingers around Hannibal's upheld arm and kisses his wrist, scenting his delicious peachfire pulse.

 

It smells like home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, SO MUCH, for coming on this journey with me! Who'd have thunk that this would end up being the longest fic I've ever written? I've loved this little universe, and whilst I can't make any promises, there's certainly a possibility that *one day* I might revisit it again.
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments on how this turned out, and I thank everyone again for being the best readers a gal could ask for.
> 
> xo, Kare

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the filthiest thing I've ever written, but feel free to correct me.
> 
> tumble with me at [lovecrimevariations](http://lovecrimevariations.tumblr.com).


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